


she-ra: future

by feldie



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Lesbians in Space, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, it's a lot of catradora softness, it's what they deserve, they get engaged at princess prom and kiss a lot and get married, what happens after season 5?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:28:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24558433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feldie/pseuds/feldie
Summary: Adora and Catra defeated Horde Prime and saved the world—now, they have to figure out what happens next.Or: Catra and Adora finally learn how to be happy.(Collection of my one shots that ended up turning into a much longer, interconnected fic—now complete!)
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Mermista/Sea Hawk (She-Ra), Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Comments: 85
Kudos: 581





	1. what stays let stay (two weeks later)

**Author's Note:**

> Ch. 1: what stays let stay (two weeks later)  
> Ch. 2: all the scars we carry (one month later)  
> Ch. 3: princess prom 2.0 (one year later)  
> Ch. 4: a beautiful wish (two years later)  
> Ch. 5: mapping stars with you (two-three years later)  
> Ch. 6: weight of the stars (three-four years later)  
> Ch. 7: homecoming (four years later)  
> Ch. 8: arrive where we started (five years later)

Even in Adora’s dreams, there’s always someone left to fight.

On the first night, it’s Horde soldiers pouring through cities. No matter what she does, how perfectly she swings the sword of She-Ra, she loses ground at every step. Her magic can’t save them. It can’t save her, either.

The soldiers rush towards her like a wave, evil light in robots’ eyes sparking as they prepare to fire, people she used to call her friends looking at her, afraid, but knowing they’ll do what they have to—she left them behind, too, after all.

Adora lifts her sword, but it isn’t enough. _She_ isn’t enough.

On the second night, it’s Horde Prime as he infects Etheria, racing against her to claim the planet’s Heart. Everything green, and there’s so much pain in her chest as the failsafe tries to burn its way out of her. But it’s too late, and she’s failed.

Adora is crying. There’s a voice calling her name, asking her to stay, but this time, she can’t stretch far enough to meet the hand reaching for hers.

Darkness swallows her.

On the third night, the worst one of all, Adora dreams about fighting Catra inside the portal, when the girl she loves is a half-corrupted face, a shadow with teeth, wild with rage—wild with rage at Adora.

She dreams about Catra walking toward her across a spaceship, dressed in Horde Prime’s colors, her eyes a single, unbroken green. Adora watches Catra fall, and all Adora can do is fall with her.

After they hit the ground, when Adora can’t walk to Catra, she crawls.

On the fourth night, not willing to face her nightmares again, Adora walks through Bright Moon’s castle. Shadows cling in the corners, and everything is quiet. It’s late, and the sky visible through the windows is thick and bright with stars.

Adora wonders if, somewhere out there, in all that light, anything as evil as what she’s already faced will come to find her again.

She turns a corner, and comes face to face with Catra, who puts her hands on Adora’s shoulders to steady her.

“Hey, Adora.”

“You’re up so late,” Adora blurts out, startled. “Why are you up so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Catra takes a step away, and Adora misses her already. “But Melog here—“ She gestures to the creature, who makes a satisfied noise. “—wouldn’t let me stay in bed.”

Adora bends, petting Melog as they rub their head against her leg.

Catra studies her, eyes narrowing. “You haven’t been sleeping. Have you?”

Adora refuses to look at her.

“Let me walk you back to your room,” Catra says, then adds, “Please. Scorpia’s been teaching me about—I don’t know. Manners, I guess.”

Adora finally glances at her and smiles, no matter how tired she is.

When they arrive at Adora’s room, they linger by the door. Catra leans against the wall, Melog sitting at her feet, with her arms crossed over her chest. “Promise to get some sleep?”

But Adora knows the nightmares will be waiting for her again. She doesn’t want to face them—she’s so tired of being afraid. She’s just... tired.

“Will you stay with me?” Adora asks, looking at the floor.

Catra’s eyes widen, but she nods. “You need me?” she asks, like she still can’t believe it’s true.

Adora only smiles, and holds out her hand. Catra sends Melog away, telling them to go bother Bow, before she takes Adora’s hand, and follows her inside the room. Adora slides into the bed Bow and Glimmer picked out for her years ago. Catra’s weight on the mattress is new, but Adora likes it. She likes Catra there with her.

They move close, Catra curling against Adora, forehead pressed to Adora’s sternum. Their arms wind around one another’s waists, legs tangle. Adora touches her forehead to the top of Catra’s head.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Catra asks softly, a hand tightening where it holds Adora’s waist.

Adora breathes Catra in. “No.”

“Go to sleep, Adora,” Catra whispers against Adora’s heart. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Do you promise?” Adora asks, but she doesn’t get to hear Catra’s answer.

She’s already asleep—and she’s right.

The nightmares are waiting for her.

Green light. Screaming. Pain in her chest. Make it stop, she only wants it to stop, she doesn’t want to fight anymore, please, _please_ —

“Adora!”

Adora wakes up with a scream, thrashing. There are arms around her, she has to get away from them, they’re going to hurt her—

“It’s me! It’s _me_ , Catra!”

Adora’s breath is ragged. Her pulse runs away from her. “Catra?”

“Yes, idiot.” But her voice is filled with concern. 

Adora sighs, sagging back into Catra, who still hasn’t let her go.

She doesn’t want to be let go.

“You can talk to me, you know.” Catra maneuvers them both until their foreheads press together, and their breath warms the space between their mouths. “Whatever’s bothering you. I can handle it.”

“It’s not your problem, Catra.”

Because Adora doesn’t want to admit how the nightmares scare her, and they make her feel weak, and they’re so small compared to what they’ve already fought. Because Horde Prime has only been gone for two weeks, and Catra deserves the peace of mind Adora can’t seem to find for herself.

Maybe Adora doesn’t want to tell her because they’ve both been brave so many times—but this sort of bravery is more terrifying than anything else.

Letting someone all the way in. Loving them.

Admitting they can hurt you if they go.

“Of course it is.” Catra’s eyebrows furrow, cheeks redden. “You don’t—you don’t have to always carry everything by yourself, Adora. I’m not fragile. I’m not going to break. I can help you if you... if you want it.”

“That’s so—“ Adora blushes, melting at the words. “—empathic of you.”

Catra looks away, embarrassed. “I’ve been having Perfuma help me... talk. About my feelings.”

Adora’s eyes widen, catching the predawn light until they glow. “She is?”

“Yes.” Catra takes a deep breath. “She is.”

“It’s working.”

“I’m glad you think so. But I meant what I said, Adora.” The look she gives Adora is fierce. “I’m not fragile.”

Adora touches Catra’s cheek, softening again. “I know you’re not. It’s just... I’m having nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” Catra leans into Adora’s hand. “About what?”

“About everything that’s happened to me. Horde Prime, and fighting the Horde, and—“

“And me.” The way Catra says it isn’t a question.

“Yes.” Adora closes her eyes. “About you.”

Catra breathes against Adora’s mouth. Adora can feel Catra thinking, in the way she’s gone still. Then Catra’s lips press against hers, soft, and sad, and full of love.

They kiss for one heartbeat, a second, and a third.

“I’m sorry, Adora,” Catra whispers as she pulls away. “About everything I did to you. I’m here now, though. I’ll stay with you every night until you aren’t afraid anymore.”

_I’ve got you. I’m not letting go._

“As long as I need?” Adora asks. “You will?”

“When we were at the Heart,” Catra says, “I asked you to stay. Now I’m staying, too.”

The next night, as Catra sleeps soundly beside her, Adora dreams.

She’s with her friends, and everyone is older. They’re dressed in white, and they’re happy, celebrating something Adora can’t quite figure out.

Catra is there, too. She’s holding Adora’s hand. It’s been years, and Catra has stayed, and Adora has stayed with her.

Adora is dreaming—and finally, there’s no one left to fight.


	2. all the scars we carry (one month later)

Catra knows Adora’s heartbeat.

She’s never told Adora, but if the world around them is quiet enough, she can hear Adora’s pulse underneath her ribs. It’s steady, strong, just like Adora is.

Catra’s ears flicker involuntarily toward the sound of Adora’s heart from where Catra lounges across one of Adora’s bedroom windowsills. The sky is the color of black leather, studded with moons and stars like ten-thousand jewels. They’re all still so new, and Catra wonders how many nights she could spend here and not finish counting them all.

It’s been two weeks since they defeated Horde Prime, and everyone is exhausted as they decide how to best help Etheria mend from the war. But as much as the planet needs mending, everyone on it does, too, even if it seems they’re all too busy. Adora has been so wrapped up in meetings and making plans with the other princesses the last few days, Catra has barely seen her.

Catra misses her.

“Catra.” Adora sounds a little surprised to see her—it’s late enough Catra should be curled up with Melog in her own room, sleeping. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Is me being here a bad thing?” The words slip out before Catra can stop them, and her stomach burns with the old, familiar fear of not being wanted. “I can leave.”

“No! Stay.” Adora shuts the door behind her and leans against it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Hearing Adora say she wants Catra to stay makes the burn in Catra’s stomach fade to a dull ache. Catra takes a breath to steady herself, claws digging into the windowsill, her tail swishing.

“The room Sparkles gave me is too big.” Catra looks at Adora. “Feels… empty. That’s all.”

Adora’s smile is tired, but somehow still smug. “Why’d you think my room would be better?”

Catra shrugs. “I knew you’d be here.”

Because Adora fills whatever space she’s in, and always has, ever since they were kids making one another promises that meant so much more than they understood then. Whenever Adora was near, Catra couldn’t help the way she stared longer than she should have. Her ears learned to listen harder, found Adora’s pulse, and memorized all the different rhythms it makes.

Adora’s smugness fades into a softness Catra still isn’t used to seeing Adora look at her with, and Catra blushes.

“I had trouble sleeping alone for weeks,” Adora says as she makes her way into the room. “I used to sneak into Glimmer’s room when I first got here so I wouldn’t have to sleep alone.”

“The sky keeps me up, too,” Catra admits. “Too bright. All those moons and stars.”

They remind her of Adora’s eyes when she turns into She-Ra. Thinking about Adora keeps her up at night, too. It has for a long time—maybe it always will.

“You ever think about how many years we didn’t see them?” Catra asks. “How long the sky was empty for?”

Adora gives her a strange look. “Not really.”

“Wonder if it would’ve changed anything. You. Me.“ Catra gestures to herself, and Adora, and everything, then shrugs, suddenly self conscious. “Makes me wonder if I’d had a reason to spend more time looking up, maybe all that light would’ve made me want to be better sooner.”

Because Catra regrets how long it took her to come home to Adora. How long it took her to say out loud that it was never hate she felt when she looked at Adora from the wrong side of the battlefield—it was always love, even when it was twisted into something ugly in her chest.

Adora’s pulse picks up for a moment before it calms. “I think we all try to be a little better every day. That’s what has to matter now.”

“I hope so.” Catra pretends to go back to watching the sky, but she’s still looking at Adora from the corner of her eye.

Adora’s gaze roams Catra’s face before her shoulders sag with exhaustion. Adora sits on the edge of her bed and peels off her jacket, then her shirt, leaving only a thin band of fabric wrapped around her chest. Catra swallows hard, her throat tight as Adora leans over the bed to grab a clean shirt to sleep in.

Then Catra sees the scars.

They’re thin, pink lines across against the smooth, pale skin that covers Adora’s muscled back. Exactly the width of Catra’s claws.

Memory blasts Catra backwards.

Catra hasn’t told Adora, this either—but she remembers everything from that day. Remembers when the girl she told to stay away came for her anyway, Horde Prime saying terrible things through her mouth, a world drenched green spinning out of control, and Adora promising to bring her home again.

She remembers her claws slicing into Adora’s back, Adora’s gasp of pain so close to Catra’s face she felt the air move. The way Adora’s whole body tensed from how Catra was _hurting_ her.

“ _You broke my heart_ ,” Horde Prime made Catra say.

But even though it was true, because of what happened that day, Catra knows what Adora’s heart sounds like when it’s breaking, too.

Catra didn’t know she left Adora scarred, though. Whenever they fought, no matter how they hurt one another before—Adora always walked away without a mark on her body.

Catra’s gasp is quiet, but not quiet enough.

“Catra?” Adora turns to look at her. “You okay?”

“I…”

Adora’s eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Adora… your back. The _scars_.”

“Oh.” Understanding floods Adora’s face. “It’s okay.”

“Okay?” A dark, bitter laugh bubbles in Catra’s chest, but she swallows it down, trying not to hate herself for what she did and failing. “There is _nothing_ okay about that.”

Adora comes to stand in front of Catra, forcing Catra to turn and face her—to face what she’s done. But Catra can’t and her eyes burn, so she closes them. It’s hard to breathe, and her face is hot. She can’t bring herself to look at the girl she loves, whose body will always carry the scars of Catra’s choices.

“They healed.” Adora takes Catra’s face in her hands. “And so did I.”

But even though Catra feels like she’s come so far from who she used to be, she doesn’t know whether she’ll ever heal all the way, like she wants to.

“Hey.” Adora traces a thumb along Catra’s jaw. “I’m here. I’m staying.”

Catra finally opens her eyes, which are blurry with tears. “You must really hate being stuck with me, huh?”

A hint of the familiar smugness Catra loves appears in Adora’s expression. “It’s not so bad. At least I love you.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Catra says with a weak smile, her chest tightening at the words.

“Yeah.” Adora pulls Catra into her arms. “For you, I guess I am.”

But Catra hesitates before returning the embrace, her stomach fluttering. “Can I—is it okay if I touch them?”

Adora’s breath is shallow as she nods.

Catra wraps her arms around Adora, listening to Adora’s heart speed up at her touch. She can’t help but relax at Adora’s warmth being pressed so close to her, at the way their bodies know how to fit together. Her claws retract as she touches Adora’s back, hands instinctively finding the raised lines of skin. She runs her fingertips across them, breath shuddering as she remembers leaving them there. Adora shivers, muscles tensing as Catra memorizes the way the scars feel under her hands.

“I’m not going to break, Catra,” Adora promises softly. “You won’t hurt me like that again.”

Catra holds her tighter, and this time, the choice is hers when she digs her fingers into Adora’s back and holds on—not to hurt, but to show she’s here, too. That Adora is staying, and Catra is, too.

Her claws don’t break skin. They don’t need to. Catra doesn’t have to try so desperately to cling to the girl she thought would never want her, because Adora already does.

“I’m sorry,” is all Catra says.

“It’s okay,” Adora answers with no hesitation. “I forgive you.”

The words loosen the knot Catra’s stomach has become. She holds Adora, and Adora holds her back. Catra traces the scars she left behind, and knows they’ll remind her for the rest of her life of where she’s been, and where she wants to go. They’ll remind her to be better every day, because all Catra knew for so long was how to hurt, and how to let go.

But she knows how to hold on now, and she won’t let go.

“Hey, Adora?” Catra whispers against Adora’s neck. “I’m tired.”

Adora kisses her forehead. “Then let’s go to sleep.”

So they climb into Adora’s bed together after Adora takes her hair down. They lie facing one another, their noses almost touching, breath warming the space between their mouths. Adora’s legs tangle with Catra’s as Catra’s tail winds around Adora’s leg. Adora’s hair spills across the pillow, bright like gold in the light from the moons and stars. Catra plays with the impossibly soft strands between her fingers, and can’t believe she’s this lucky.

“Catra?” Adora asks.

Catra purrs as Adora smoothes her thumb along Catra’s cheekbone.

“All the fighting we did,” Adora says. “Did I… ever give _you_ a scar?”

“Only one.” Catra swallows, remembering how it hurt, how she couldn’t leave it alone while it healed. “But it’s not a big deal.”

“I did?” Adora’s voice is small. “Where?”

Catra guides Adora’s hand to her ribs, where a rock sliced deep into her side years ago while she was fighting She-Ra. “Here.”

Catra forces herself not to shake as Adora’s fingers glide over the old, scarred skin, the mark almost erased by the time and things that happened between _then_ and _now_. Adora’s touch is light, shaking a little, and it’s an effort for Catra not to arch into the warmth of her hand.

“Did you ever hate it?” Adora whispers.

“No.” Catra thinks for a moment as Adora’s heartbeat quickens. “It reminded me of you. It kept you close, even when you weren’t.”

“I’m close now.”

“Yeah,” Catra says. “You are.”

Catra presses her lips against Adora’s. There’s a fire in Catra’s chest as Adora puts an arm over her waist and pulls Catra close, until there’s no space left between them. Catra winds her tail tighter around Adora’s thigh. She touches the scars she left on Adora’s back, the scars she can’t hate, because Catra loves every part of what makes Adora who she is.

 _Magic,_ Catra wants to tell Adora. _You’re magic, you always have been, I think you always will be._

But Adora kisses away Catra’s thoughts until there’s nothing else left but her. Everything is Adora, Adora is everything, and Catra is home there. She’s exactly where she’s wanted to be for as long as she can remember wanting anything. She isn’t alone anymore, and she won’t have to be again, as long as she keeps trying to be better every day.

She’ll learn how for Adora, whose heart is pounding out of control.

Catra puts her hand against Adora’s chest, and she listens. Because she knows Adora’s heartbeat—and it only beats this way for her.


	3. princess prom 2.0 (one year later)

Catra knows how to break things.

She's never had to put them together before, only take them apart. But over the last year, ever since they defeated Horde Prime, she's had to learn how to take the pieces of something she helped break, and build something better with it. Something stronger. She learned, even though it was hard. She learned how for the friends she never expected to have, and for herself.

Mostly, though, she learned for Adora.

Catra plays with a tiny circle of gold in her hands. It rolls across her palms, warm from the heat of her fingers. It’ll be a promise, if she can bring herself to make it.

She wants to make it.

All she has to do is give it away—but she hasn’t found the courage to do it.

Why is it still so hard to say what she wants without being afraid? A flutter of the old, familiar anger rises in her stomach, but it's not aimed at Adora, like it was for so long.

It's aimed at herself.

Because Catra burns to tell Adora all the things she wants, but she can't. It's not the right time.

Catra tucks the promise of gold away, and her hands are empty without it.

Not yet.

Not yet.

*****

Catra, Adora, Bow, Glimmer, Sea Hawk, and Mermista travel to the Kingdom of Snows together on the ship Mermista had built for Sea Hawk after the war. The sky is enormous and blue overhead, and the wind smells like salt. The ship, which Sea Hawk named _Dearest_ , cuts through the waves toward Frosta's kingdom.

Mermista complains about the ship's name every chance she gets.

"You can't call me _and_ your ship 'dearest.'"

"Oh, but I can," Sea Hawk says with a huge smile, playing with his mustache. "Because the two of you are the dearest things to my heart!"

"I think it's a nice name," Adora says, hands planted on her hips.

Catra makes a note to herself. If she ever gets a ship, she'll name it _Adora_. She doesn't think Adora will be as thrilled by it, then. The thought makes her laugh.

Adora smiles at her. "Something funny?"

"Nope," Catra says as Melog twines through her legs, and Catra pats the creature's head to elicit a purr. "I think it’s a… nice name, too."

Bow nods his agreement. "Appropriate _and_ thoughtful."

Glimmer and Adora do their best to hide their amusement, but can't help laughing.

"Ugh!" Mermista throws her hands into the air, defeated. The waves nearby rise with her annoyance before she calms them.

"I told you so, dearest!" Sea Hawk shouts, then pats the ship. “No, not _you_ , Dearest.”

The Kingdom of Snows appears on the horizon, a land of purple mountains whose peaks are wreathed in snow and mist. Above them towers Frosta's castle, where all their friends will be waiting for them. Everyone changes into dress clothes as the ship draws close. Catra wears another suit, this one white and gold to complement Adora's dress. White fabric flows to Adora's sandal-wrapped feet. Her shoulders are bare, hair spilling over her shoulders like spun gold. Catra is careful to put the jewelry she brought with her from Bright Moon into an inner pocket of her suit, right over her heart.

"You should wear your hair down more often." Catra saunters up behind Adora, puts her chin on Adora's shoulder, and plays with her hair. "You... look really pretty."

Adora blushes. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Catra says. “I do.”

Even after a year, most days, Catra still can't believe Adora feels the same way she does. For the first time in her life, Catra is _happy_.

Because Adora loves her, too.

Catra’s pulse knocks against the jewelry in her pocket, reminding her that it's real, everything's been real, and no matter what happens, no one can take the last year from her.

“Ready?” Adora asks.

“For a roomful of princesses?” Catra risks a quick kiss on Adora’s neck. “Hardly.”

“That includes me, you know.”

“Believe me,” Catra says. “I know.”

Not yet.

*****

Catra's been here before, but not like this.

The last Princess Prom she went to, she destroyed. Glimmer, Adora, and Bow hadn’t formed the Princess Alliance yet, and Catra was so angry.

This time, everything is different.

She’s here with Adora. Everyone around her is known, a friend. There aren’t plans to put in motion. Nothing to ruin, or hurt. Catra's suit is new, its colors not the same as last time, and her heart is so different, too. She almost doesn't recognize it, but doesn't think that's a bad thing. It's had time to heal, and so has she.

Catra takes a breath and touches her inner pocket while Bow and Glimmer bow to Frosta, who's sitting on her throne. Frosta's guards are beside her, but so are Scorpia and Perfuma. Scorpia gives Catra a delighted little wave, and Perfuma smiles from where she's tucked under Scorpia's arm. Magic shimmers in the air around Scorpia before a flower crown appears on her slicked-back hair. Both of them blush, and Catra grins.

"Whatcha got in there?" Adora looks at the pocket Catra can't seem to stop touching.

"Nothing!" Catra drops her hand like it's been burned. "Nothing."

Melog hides behind Catra, away from Adora's arched, disbelieving eyebrow.

"Uh huh." Adora narrows her eyes, poking Catra's shoulder. "It doesn't _look_ like nothing."

"Don't be an idiot." Catra smirks. "I said it's nothing, okay?"

It will stay nothing until Catra decides to show it to Adora.

Adora stalks toward Catra, determination in her eyes, a smiling starting to form on her lips. Her hands raise like she’s going to pounce.

Catra is completely distracted by the sight of her as Adora grabs Catra's suit jacket and tugs her close until Adora towers over her. Catra forgets how to breathe as Adora's fingers graze her chest, searching, searching, and—

"Adora!" Entrapta screams at the top of her lungs.

Catra hisses, startled.

But Entrapta pets her head, directly between the ears. “It’s nice to see you, too, Catra!”

Adora lets Catra go. Catra starts breathing again before turning to find Entrapta dressed in her ever-present, oil-stained clothes, unwilling to change even for Princess Prom. She's brought Hordak and Wrong Hordak with her, evidently ignoring the rules about how many people she can invite. They look identical in their matching suits with little pieces of First Ones tech taking the place of buttons. The only difference is that Hordak looks uncomfortable, while Wrong Hordak winks at Catra.

Catra winks back, relief flooding through her, and touches her pocket again.

Not yet.

*****

Catra and Adora are dancing. This is how it always should’ve been. Their bodies close, and warm, with no anger between them, only love.

They split apart, the music carrying them both to new partners.

Catra reaches out, and Glimmer’s hand finds hers.

Glimmer gives a little bow, all of her glittering in a violet-and-white dress. “Horde scum.”

They fall into the dance’s arranged steps, moving easily, comfortably. There’s an easiness between them, the kind that only comes from knitting together old wounds.

“Can I ask you something, Sparkles?”

Glimmer laughs. “I don’t think you ever asked my permission to do _anything_ before.”

Catra spins Glimmer under her arm. “If I was going to… ask Adora… something. Do you think she’d say yes?”

“Depends on what kind of something.”

Catra can’t help her blush, the way her heart races as she dances a tight circle around Glimmer. “The… forever kind of something. Maybe. I don’t know. Do you think she’d say yes? If I did? I’m not saying I’m going to but—”

Glimmer’s eyes widen with delight before she kisses Catra’s cheek, surprising her. “I think you should ask her yourself and find out.”

After Glimmer spins away, Catra dances with Bow—who gives her a knowing, infuriatingly obvious wink, because Glimmer already told him what Catra said—then Frosta and Perfuma before Adora comes spinning back to her, her dress kicking up around her legs. Adora’s hair is wild, her cheeks red. She’s reaching for Catra. She hasn’t stopped reaching in a year.

Neither of them have.

Catra’s arms go around Adora and pull her in, and Adora’s hand presses against the jewelry in Catra’s pocket as they both laugh.

Then Adora kisses her, and the rest of the world disappears.

Not yet.

*****

Catra sits at a feast table with a full stomach, her legs kicked up on the table. She’s even wearing _shoes_ because Adora asked her to. The world shimmers blue and purple around her, the frost crystals in the air reflecting the colors and splashing them across everything.

Across the room, Adora and Glimmer are doing something—Catra can’t quite figure out what—but it involves lifting heavy objects for no particular reason. Catra watches Adora’s face pinch in concentration as she hoists an entire table over her head. Bow puts a hand on Glimmer’s shoulder at the queen’s annoyed look, while Perfuma presses her hands over her eyes and squeals at them to be careful.

“HA!” Adora shouts, the noise echoing across the room. “Glimmer, I _told_ you—”

Glimmer teleports on top of the table.

Adora’s arms wobble.

“Too much, Glimmer!” Bow yells, rushing forward, arms stretched out to try and catch someone, _anyone_.

There’s a titanic crash as Adora drops the table and Glimmer both. Catra doesn’t even have time to be concerned before Glimmer and Adora pop to their feet, neither of them able to stop laughing. Frosta crosses her arms, annoyed at the broken table, while Bow sighs, arms dropping to his sides.

Adora looks beautiful, then, too. Catra likes Adora laughing.

“ _Please_ , please be more careful next time,” Perfuma says, peeking through her fingers.

Catra can’t believe she’s here, and these are her friends. The thought is a mixture of love and exasperation and disbelief, but Catra wouldn’t have it any other way. She hadn’t known how much could change for the better in a year.

The jewelry grows heavy in her pocket. Taking it out could change everything.

Melog purrs in concern from underneath the table, and Catra pets their head.

Scorpia catches Catra’s eye and comes to sit with her, sliding her body into the chair beside Catra.

“You look happy,” Scorpia says, adjusting the flower crown Perfuma made her so it sits more evenly on her head. “And… a little sad. If I’m being honest, that is, and you know I like to be honest whenever I can. Anyway. Why do you look so sad? I thought you were doing better at the… being happy thing.”

Catra’s confused. “Sad? I’m not sad.”

Scorpia gestures to the room, all the people inside it. To Adora. “It’s like you’re looking at something you love, but you don’t know how long it’ll last.”

Catra sucks in a breath, and it’s like she can’t breathe with the weight in her pocket. The memory of who she used to be swells up inside her, furious and burning. “What if I ruin everything? I’m good at that, you know.”

“You’ve always followed your heart, wildcat.” Scorpia touches the tip of her claw to the jewelry kept safe over Catra’s heart, and Catra’s worries fall away. “Maybe it’s time you realized that isn’t a bad thing. It’ll lead you good places, if you let it. Look where it’s already taken you!”

Catra looks at Adora, and there’s so much love in her heart she’s afraid it might kill her, when so much else hasn’t been able to.

Catra puts her hand over her pocket, and memorizes how the ring inside it feels against her palm.

Not yet.

But soon.

*****

Everyone stays in the Kingdom of Snows that night. Adora and Catra are among the last to leave the party—even Melog left hours earlier ago with Scorpia, who promised to look after them. Light dances in green ribbons across the sky, hovering below the stars and moons.

Catra has never seen anything like it. She wants a better view.

“Race you outside,” Catra says to Adora as they walk back to their neighboring rooms.

They run the same way they did when they were children to the castle’s front entrance, pushing and shoving and laughing. Catra uses her claws to anchor herself on all the ice, which makes Adora a little slower than normal—but she still lets Adora reach the castle gates before she does.

“You can’t seem to stop losing to me,” Adora says with a smirk after she catches her breath.

“A few years ago, I thought that was a bad thing.” Catra shrugs, the motion lazy, but inside, her heart is pounding. “I don’t mind so much now.”

“Not even a little bit?”

Catra laughs despite her nerves. “… Maybe a little.”

But she doesn’t. She really doesn’t.

“I thought so.” Adora nudges Catra with her shoulder before she walks onto the road of ice that winds away from the castle like a ribbon. The lights in the sky dance down and turn the world to an ocean of green.

Even Catra doesn’t mind swimming if it’s through light.

“Things have changed so much,” Adora says. “Haven’t they?”

“I think so.” Catra joins her. “Is that good?”

Adora tips her face upward, the blue in her eyes melting into the green pouring down from overhead. “Yes.”

Catra wants to ask if Adora loves her, even though they’ve said it a hundred times since the Heart. Even though she feels it every time Adora touches her, and sees it in the way Adora looks at her. Catra wants to ask if it’s possible to be this happy with someone forever.

When it comes to Adora, she’s _wanted_ for so long. Her heart doesn’t know anything else—as long as it’s existed, Adora’s had a home there. It doesn’t remember a time before her, and it won’t accept a time after her.

Catra gathers her courage, letting it grow like a fire in her stomach to spread into her hands and heart. She’s still afraid, but Adora taught her when she reaches out, a hand is waiting to find hers.

She just has to reach again.

One more time.

Catra can do that. She can do it for Adora, and she can do it for herself.

Reach for Adora.

So Catra moves in front of her, and looks her in the eyes. She reaches into her suit jacket, and finds the ring she carries everywhere—because soon is now, and Catra doesn’t want to wait a minute longer.

Adora’s eyes grow huge when Catra finally takes out the ring, clutching it tight between clawed fingers.

“Adora, we’ve known each other for—”

“Catra, is that—do you want to _marry_ me?” Adora interrupts, her smile ridiculous and huge.

Catra growls, ears flattening. “Way to ruin my speech.”

“Sorry—sorry.” Adora is blushing, trying to make her face serious again. “Continue. Please.”

Catra takes a breath to calm herself down and isn’t successful. “We’ve known each other practically our entire lives. And I know you didn’t always realize how I felt about you. But I—I’ve loved you for such a long time. I never thought you’d feel the same way, but you do. This last year, it’s been the best of my life. I didn’t think my life could be this… full of good things. Good people. I didn’t think I deserved them. But you showed me I do.”

“Catra…”

But Catra silences Adora with a look. “Are you going to let me finish?”

Adora opens her mouth to answer, then thinks better of it, and nods.

Catra holds up the ring. “You promised to bring me home, but the second you found me again, I already was. Because _you’re_ home, Adora. You always have been. So…”

“So?” Adora can’t seem to help herself. But her voice is teasing. She’s beautiful, and she’s smiling.

Adora has only been She-Ra for a few years, but she’s always been magic to Catra.

“So I want to marry you, idiot. If you want to marry me. Do you? Do you want that?”

_Do you want me the same way I want you?_

Adora takes the ring. She puts it on her finger, and admires it. The band of gold reflects the sky, and there’s light all around them. There’s light inside Catra, too, finding every last shadow inside her and chasing it out with gold and green.

Catra takes Adora’s hand with her own, and they’re both shaking. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” Adora moves close, touching her forehead to Catra’s. “Definitely a yes.”

When they kiss, the promise of the rest of their lives is on their lips. It’s everything Catra wants, and she thinks maybe, just maybe, she deserves to have it.

Because Catra knows how to break things—but if she’s with Adora, she can build an entire life.


	4. a beautiful wish (two years later)

When Adora was young, she didn’t have a word for love.

She kept the feeling of it like a secret in her chest, the only thing that belonged to her. She felt it like a coal in her heart whenever Catra was close.

It seems impossible there are entire days built around a word she hasn’t known nearly long enough to know fully, but there are.

It seems even more impossible there’s a future for her so filled with it, but there is.

There is.

Mara comes to her in her dreams sometimes, and tells her she deserves it.

Adora opens her eyes in a room full of light.

She’s in Bright Moon, alone in her bedroom. The sky outside her windows is bright with a new dawn that spills like butter over the horizon. She swings her legs over the side of her bed, playing with the gold ring Catra gave her a year ago. It’s made a home on her finger, like the one Catra’s always had in her heart.

When Adora goes to stand at a window, Bright Moon is stretching awake like she is. Residents yawn in flower-filled courtyards as they start their days, and the air smells like baking bread and the ocean. Sunlight catches on the waterfall spilling over the mountain behind the castle. Gold mist plumes into the air. She drinks in the sight, promising she’ll remember it even when she isn’t here. A cool breeze catches pieces of hair that came loose from her ponytail while she slept, and she reties it all back up in a familiar motion that soothes the flutter of anticipation in her stomach.

It’s been two years since they won the Battle for Etheria, but the planet will never be quite the same. Perfuma spent an entire year growing the plants She-Ra left behind on Horde Prime’s spires, weaving them into pillars of living color. Refugees from the war built new towns around their bases, and where there used to only be metal, now there’s songs, and shops, and markets. There’s entire lives.

Mermista carried broken spaceships on the backs of waves to the middle of the ocean. She sank them there, sending them to a place where only strange creatures of the deep make their homes. Entrapta, Hordak, Wrong Hordak, and Bow have done their best to start separating their planet from the First Ones’ tech, but even if they have ten lifetimes, they won’t finish it all.

Someone knocks on her door, but they don’t wait for an answer before pushing it open. Catra barrels inside, dressed in a deep red shirt with a high collar, unbuttoned to show her collarbones and throat. Her shirt is tucked into a pair of high-waisted, dark pants. She’s let her hair grow out, and it brushes her jaw now. Glimmer and Bow come in behind her. Glimmer’s hair is cut short now, while Bow’s grown a little goatee and his hair long on top, which is tied back with a slip of purple ribbon. Their clothes complement one another’s, all shades of lavender, white, and pale gold.

“Please tell her I don’t have to wear shoes,” Catra says with a smirk before she kisses Adora good morning.

“It’s your _wedding_ ,” Glimmer says. “Please, just wear the shoes! They won’t even hurt.”

“I don’t know.” Bow puts an arm around Glimmer’s shoulder, smiling a little. “Has she even _worn_ shoes before, Glimmer? If she slips and falls…”

But Glimmer only grins. “And wouldn’t that be _so_ embarrassing for her?”

“I wore them last year at Princess Prom!” Catra hides behind Adora, putting her hands on Adora’s shoulders, and sticks her tongue out at Glimmer.

“Catra!” Glimmer leans forward like she’s going to jump over Adora to get to her. “Wear the shoes!”

“Not on your life, Sparkles!”

Adora laughs at the warmth between them, the familiarity. “I don’t know, Catra. I think I like you in shoes.”

“Not you, too,” Catra says, but she squeezes Adora’s shoulders affectionately. “Traitor.”

“Come on,” Bow says, tilting his head toward the door. “You both have to start getting ready—you can’t be late to your own wedding!”

“If it’s ours,” Catra grumbles, “shouldn’t it start whenever _we_ want?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Adora turns to touch her nose to Catra’s cheek. Even after two years, she’s still amazed at how right everything feels between them, after all they both went through, and did.

But Adora understands now—sometimes, people have to split apart and grow before they can come back together in the way they’re supposed to.

Catra gives a low purr in the back of her throat at Adora’s closeness. “It _should_ be.”

“Your objections are duly and thoroughly noted.” Bow turns with Glimmer still under his arm. “Now let’s go! Scorpia’s waiting for us.”

Catra gives Adora’s shoulders another squeeze before she starts to follow them. Her hair is a little wild, tangled, but there’s a lightness to Catra’s steps, the weight of who she was gradually falling away as she’s realized who she is, and who she wants to be. Adora hadn’t realized how much she’d love this version of Catra—softer, kinder, someone who tries to be a little bit better than she was the day before.

Adora’s been here before—the details are all different, but the feeling is the same.

 _A beautiful wish_ , Horde Prime called it.

But it’s not a wish anymore.

She made it real—they all did, together.

Catra turns around and offers Adora her hand. “You coming?”

This time, when Adora reaches out, her fingers find something to hold onto.

Adora smiles softly, and her chest is tight. Her heart is so full she’s a little concerned it’s going to explode.

For so long, Adora thought she was only racing toward a destiny she couldn’t break free of, everything she was bound up in a sword and what she could offer other people. But now, the years stretch out in front of her, filled with stars and magic, and so many things she wants. Filled with a life she didn’t expect, but her friends remind her every day she deserves.

“Yeah,” Adora says. “I am.”

***

Catra pulls Adora to a stop before they reach Scorpia’s room, where Catra will get ready—where she’ll say goodbye to Adora until they see each other again in the throne room, a place so many important things in Adora’s life have happened.

Glimmer and Bow walk ahead without them, going back and forth on how they should try and style Adora’s hair. Adora smiles, knowing they’ll double back the moment they realize her and Catra are missing. They’ll only have a couple seconds.

Catra shuffles her feet, ears flattening against her head.

The sudden vulnerability surprises Adora, and she steps closer to cup Catra’s jaw in her hand. “What is it?”

Catra won’t meet her eyes. “You… still want to do this?”

But Adora hears the unspoken question: _Do you still want me?_

Adora kisses her. The motion is so sudden Catra gives a surprised squeak as their lips collide, then settle into a familiar softness, one they’ve practiced finding for two years. When Adora breaks away, she rests her forehead against Catra’s, and closes her eyes. She remembers being on her knees in the Whispering Woods, refusing to give a name to why her heart was breaking as Catra had asked her what she wanted.

Because the answer has always been _you_ , even when Adora was too afraid to say it.

“Yes,” Adora says. “I do.”

***

It’s nearly time.

Glimmer and Bow are helping Adora get ready. She’s dressed in a white-and-gold dress, they’ve fussed over her loose hair until it shines like sunlight, and carefully put her matching gold headpiece into place.

There’s love in the air between them, but there’s sadness, too.

Nothing will be the same after today. When they defeated Horde Prime, Glimmer, Bow, Catra, and Adora talked about going to space so they could bring magic back to the universe together. But as the months passed, Glimmer’s responsibilities as Bright Moon’s queen grew more demanding, and Bow’s work on separating Etheria from the First Ones’ tech is still more important than ever. It didn’t take long for them all to realize that, when Adora went to visit the stars again, Glimmer and Bow weren’t going with her.

For the first time in a long time, Etheria needs its queen and princesses to rule well far more than it needs She-Ra to help save them.

“This is it, isn’t it?” Bow asks as he fixes a piece of Adora’s hair, his eyes bright with tears. “The—the last time the Best Friend Squad is gonna—”

“Bow! It won’t be the _last_ time.” Glimmer looks at Adora, her expression fierce. “It _won’t_.”

Adora’s throat is tight, her eyes burning. “I’ll have so much to tell you when I get back.”

“I’m your queen, and I’m ordering you to return so I can hear all about it.” Glimmer’s voice shakes. “When you’re ready to come home, of course.”

Adora smiles, so proud of who her friend has become, who’s flourished with the responsibility of rebuilding her queendom after the war. “You’ll have to order Catra, too.”

“Oh, I already have.” Glimmer can’t help a fond laugh. “She said she’s never listened to anyone in her life, but she might make an exception for me.”

“She’s changed so much, hasn’t she? Like, she really wanted to become good, and she just… did.” Bow shakes his head. “That still feels weird to say.”

“I think we all know who’s responsible for that.” Glimmer gives Adora a meaningful look. “But yes. We’ve all changed.”

“Including my goatee,” Bow adds, touching his chin.

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “That, too.”

“I’m going to miss you guys so much.” Adora’s heart feels like it’s growing inside her chest, until her ribs threaten to snap with how much they’re trying to hold inside her. “I never could have done any of this without you.”

But this time, she means the words as a beginning, not an end. No matter how far away from Etheria she travels, however many planets she gives magic back to, Adora will always come home. It’s where her life is, and so many of the things she loves. She deserves to have them, too.

“You really mean it?” Glimmer asks.

There will be so many things Adora won’t be able to do without them, so many adventures they’ll get to share, and she can’t wait to find out what they are.

“Yeah,” Adora says. “I really do.”

***

Adora sneaks just outside the throne room, where everything will happen so soon, to steal a glance at what her friends have done.

It’s beautiful.

Perfuma is in the middle of growing flowers, splashing pink and green and yellow across walls of pale blue and purple. She’s already made a tapestry of flowers across the open archway around the throne, weaving together vines to make the space feel closer, more intimate. Frosta makes ice sculptures, most of them comically bad attempts at She-Ra and Catra and Adora, but when she tries to give Catra ridiculously muscular arms that make the whole thing threaten to topple over, Mermista makes her fix it. Sea Hawk runs around with his rapier, shouting every time he stabs a little piece of food off the silver trays the castle’s staff sets on tables for all the guests who’ll be arriving soon.

Entrapta and Wrong Hordak fiddle with an arch of silver-and-red tech Adora doesn’t recognize, and Entrapta screeches delightedly when the whole thing lights up—until, with a loud _pop_ , it goes dark, a bolt of electricity zips away from it, and the power smashes into an ice sculpture of a flexing She-Ra and explodes it into a hundred pieces.

“My flowers!” Perfuma yells.

“Entrapta!” Meristma shouts. “I’ve told you a hundred times! _No tech that can electrocute us at the ceremony_!”

“But Mermista!” Entrapta bounds over to her, picking up pieces of broken ice sculpture with her hair and attempting to put them back together without any success. “If I can just calibrate everything correctly, the _lights_ it’ll make—”

“No.” Mermista flicks a piece of ice off her shoulder while Frosta frowns at her ruined work. “No more.”

Wrong Hordak’s smile is so big it’s a little frightening. “Fear not! We shall not let anything else bad happen!”

The tech promptly electrocutes him, making his hair stand straight up.

“I must say!” Sea Hawk shouts with a piece of food sticking off the end of his rapier. “Your hair is _delightful_ that way.”

“Brother!” Wrong Hordak says. “Thank you!”

Mermista puts her face in her hands. “Why are you both _like_ this?”

Hidden just outside the door, Adora smiles. Her friends make Bright Moon beautiful, just by being there.

Is this everything she wants?

 _Yes_ , Adora thinks. _It is._

***

Adora stands across from Catra, and all around them, there’s love.

Glimmer is presiding over their ceremony, asking them if they both want one another enough to bind their lives together, no matter where they may end up. Bow stands at Glimmer’s right hand, holding the items Catra and Adora gave him days ago, the ones they’ll exchange at the end of the ceremony. From Adora, she gave her wing buckle, and from Catra, there’s a pin that looks like Bright Moon, the one Glimmer gifted her two days after the Battle for Etheria, to show she was a friend of the princesses. Adora knows it’s something Catra treasures, even if she’d never admit it out loud. Tiny pieces of themselves to trade like promises.

Scorpia cries loudly into a handkerchief Perfuma gives her, both of them whispering about how lovely it all is. Frosta pats Scorpia’s claw, trying to hide her smile beneath a scowl. Sea Hawk, somehow, is crying even louder while Mermista shushes him to absolutely no effect. Micah and Swift Wind are sniffling together, both trying to be quiet and not interrupt. Melog lays at their feet, eyes glowing with magic. Netossa and Spinnerella are there, too, smiling and relaxed, seated beside Castaspella and Double Trouble, who looks disinterested but fabulous in an emerald green suit. Other people from all over Etheria come to celebrate with them, to be here, to say goodbye before they leave to see the stars. 

“If this is what you both want,” Glimmer says, “then hold out your hands.”

Adora looks at Catra, who’s smiling softly. A gold-trimmed, white cloak falls off one shoulder, and Scorpia somehow managed to get Catra to brush her hair. Still no shoes, though.

This is what Adora wants.

All she has to do to make it hers is reach out one more time.

Reach for Catra.

Adora wants to. For Catra, and for herself. She wants to for them both.

Adora _wants_.

So she does.

Catra’s hands are warm when they take Adora’s. Her claws press gently against Adora’s palms. She taps one against the ring Adora’s barely taken off since the day Catra gave it to her.

Adora can’t help the tiny, relieved laugh that escapes her.

“You okay?” Catra whispers as Glimmer and Bow share a knowing look, Scorpia heaves an enormous sob, and Melog makes a curious noise.

She’s so much more than okay. This is everything she’s ever wanted or wished for. She feels so much her body isn’t big enough to hold all the promises of _tomorrows_ and _some days_ she’s making, but she’s going to make them anyway. Not because she has to, but because she wants to.

“Yeah,” Adora says. “I am.”

***

The ceremony is over, and the party goes on without them inside Bright Moon’s castle.

Their friends were sad to see them go, and everyone cried, even Mermista and Frosta, despite how they tried to hide it. Adora had been afraid Scorpia would never let Catra go, until Catra told them not to stop celebrating just because they wouldn’t be there—so Adora and Catra left their friends dancing. It’s an image Adora tucks inside her heart, everyone together and happy, a whole world of movement and magic, everything bound together by years of friendship.

But Adora is ready to see the stars.

Mara’s ship, which Entrapta and Hordak spent nearly six months fixing, waits to carry them through the universe. They’ll bring magic with them wherever they go. Behind it, the sky darkens toward evening in cobalt and sapphire, speckled with the evening’s first stars.

There’s a shimmer of purple in the air a moment before Glimmer and Bow teleport directly in front of them.

Glimmer throws herself into Adora’s arms, and Adora catches her with ease. “I know we already said goodbye, but—”

“I’ll miss you, too,” Adora says in understanding.

Glimmer wordlessly pulls Catra into the hug a moment before Bow wraps his arms around them all as best he can manage. Adora closes her eyes, letting herself sink into the safety of it, the last moment of normal she’ll know for a long time. Her heart aches with how much she loves them all.

“Best Friend Squad?” Bow asks.

“Always,” Glimmer and Adora say at the same time.

“I might even miss you guys,” Catra says. “Maybe.”

“We’ll miss you, too,” Bow says. “And we’ll be waiting for you to come home.”

Glimmer kisses Catra’s cheek before they all separate. “You have to promise me you’ll take care of her.”

Catra’s face softens. She touches her cheek, the place Glimmer has made a habit of kissing whenever Catra does something unexpectedly kind. “That’s the plan.”

They all share a smile, because they’ve been here before, but everything is different.

Glimmer takes Bow’s hand in hers.

Magic turns the air to glitter with a sound like ringing bells.

And they’re gone.

Catra stands at Adora’s side, the wing buckle Adora gave her threaded onto her belt, looking up at the sky. “Gotta say, I’m a little nervous about this.”

“After today? You’re nervous about _this_?” Adora laughs, bumping Catra with her shoulder. “I thought you’d be more afraid of everyone staring at you.”

“We’ll be alone up there,” is all Catra says.

“Not alone.” Adora stares at the sky with her, wondering what they’ll find, what stories they’ll love enough to carry all the way home again. “Together.”

“Smooth of you,” Catra says with a grin.

Laughing, Adora sweeps Catra into her arms, easily taking her weight, and tucks Catra against her chest. Catra lets out a sound that’s half growl, half purr, as Adora carries her onto the space ship.

Catra is staring at her, blushing, but looking undeniably pleased at being in Adora’s arms. “You think we’re ready for this?”

After everything they’ve been through, Adora isn’t afraid anymore.

“Yes,” Adora says. “We are.”

***

Adora has never been a peaceful person, but she feels it here.

Her heart is slow, and her arms are wrapped around the person she loves more than anything. Catra’s tucked against her chest, sleeping. Their legs are tangled together, a blanket pulled up to their waists. Neither of them wanted to stay in one of the small bedrooms on board their first night, so they’re on the flight deck, blankets piled beneath them to make a bed where they can watch the stars, which flicker all around them through the ship’s viewports. The stars are all different colors—aquamarine, gold, white, silver, pale reds, soft pinks. They remind her of her friends.

Adora didn’t notice last time, when she took this ship across the universe on a very different adventure, one where she was afraid. For Glimmer, and Catra, and Bow, and everyone on Etheria—and though she didn’t admit it then, she was afraid for herself, and how she was hurtling toward a destiny she couldn’t escape and didn’t understand.

Adora rests her chin on top of Catra’s hair. She counts her own heartbeats. She counts the stars, and how many breaths Catra takes. She tries to count how many memories she has where she feels loved—for being _Adora_ , not for being She-Ra and having magic that can save so much—but there’s too many now, and she can’t keep track of the number.

That brings her peace, too.

Catra stirs against her chest, blinking awake in a sea of stars. Her tail curls around Adora’s thigh. “Adora? You up?”

Adora nods. Her heartbeat has never been so at ease before.

Catra nuzzles closer, putting an arm over Adora’s waist so she can scratch Adora’s back the way Adora likes. She kisses the hollow of Adora’s throat, her voice rough with sleep but still teasing. “Can’t sleep? Thinking too much about how you love me?”

Adora can’t see it, but she knows Catra is smirking, and it makes her smile.

“Yeah,” Adora says. “I am.”

Adora didn’t have a word for this feeling before, the one she used to keep a secret, but can’t anymore because it burns in her chest for so many people. She has a whole life of it, and she intends to live it the way she wants.

Because her destiny has never been a sword—it’s always been this.

It’s always been love.


	5. mapping stars with you (two-three years later)

Adora lets She-Ra’s magic in, and transforms.

“For the honor of Grayskull!”

Her body turns to gold, then ripples with more colors than Adora has names for. Magic fills her from head to toe, shimmering as it changes her. It makes her stronger, broadens her bones and muscles, clothes her in She-Ra’s gold and white. Her sword is in her hand, so much lighter now than it is when she’s just Adora. Light surrounds her in a halo of pale blue, the same color her eyes are when she’s She-Ra.

Adora takes a breath, and it’s over.

“Hey, She-Ra,” Catra says from beside her, dressed in her space suit, though her helmet is off and tucked under one arm. Catra cranes her head back to overcome the significant height difference between them now so she can look at Adora, her tail swishing. “Think you’re ready for this?”

Adora nods with a confidence she doesn’t feel. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Catra narrows her eyes. “Because we’re on a dead alien planet, and you’re gonna try to give it back its magic. Kind of a lofty goal, if I’m being honest.”

Nerves flutter in the base of Adora’s stomach and travel into her hands, which she refuses to let shake the way they want to.

“It’s kind of perfect, though.” Catra puts a hand to her forehead and stares out over the barren, brown dust that makes up the entire planet. The sun is a swollen, red half circle against the horizon, and the air swelters with heat. “No one’s here if things go wrong, right? I mean, this planet looks pretty dead.”

Adora still isn’t sure how she _knows_ this place used to have magic. After she and Catra left Etheria the night of their wedding, a pull in her heart started humming through her blood and wouldn’t let her rest until they spent four months crossing the universe, and only went quiet after they arrived less than a day ago. But even if she isn’t sure _how_ she knows, Adora feels it in every part of her—the planet’s magic was stolen a long time ago, and it’s her responsibility to give it back.

This is why her and Catra came so far, across uncounted miles of empty space burning bright with stars and planets.

“I’m sure,” Adora says.

Catra smirks. “If you say so, princess.”

“I’m your _wife_ ,” Adora reminds her, and a little thrill goes through her at the word.

“Still a princess.” Catra crosses her arms. “You gonna try and fix this place or not?”

“Can you be quiet?” Adora looks at Catra from the corner of her eye. “I’m trying to do magic here.”

Catra smirks again, but takes a few steps back. “Don’t let me get in your way, then.”

Adora narrows her eyes, then takes a breath to center herself. She sinks into memories, back to the minutes after she emerged from the Heart, her entire body on fire with the magic of She-Ra, how she took so much killing metal and barren rock and made it into something alive.

But can she do it again? Without Etheria at stake or her friends’ lives hanging in the balance? All the way here, she just… assumed the magic would work, but now, she isn’t sure.

Adora settles her feet shoulder-width apart, and takes her sword in both her hands, because she has to try. This is her responsibility, _She-Ra’s_ responsibility.

Adora raises her sword, pointed down at the ground. Magic hums faster in her blood, somehow sensing what she’s going to try to do. As if it knows it used to belong to this place, and wants to go home again.

With a shout, Adora brings down the sword.

Its point stabs into the barren dirt of the planet, finds purchase, and holds on.

Magic explodes outward from the sword in a golden ring, racing across the planet.

No flowers or grass or trees appear, though, like the ones that covered Etheria when Adora did this last time. The ground ripples with magic, soaking it in like dirt that hasn’t seen water in centuries. The pull in Adora’s chest, which was quiet since they arrived, roars to life again. She feels it in the center of her chest, and the magic inside her races toward it like a drain, funneling from She-Ra, through Adora, and into the planet that wants to drink from her until she’s dry.

Adora gasps, going to her knees as the magic rips its way free of her, claimed by the planet who hasn’t tasted power in so long.

“Adora?” Catra’s voice is distant, panicked. “Adora!”

Adora forces her head up from how it bows over the ground. “It’s okay. I have this.”

But the planet is taking too much, and Adora— _She-Ra_ —doesn’t have enough to give.

Adora’s vision flickers black at the edges as the pull in her chest threatens to rip her apart. Every breath shudders and shakes, and her grip on her sword is loosening with each heartbeat. She has to transform back into herself, she has to cut the planet off from She-Ra’s power so it doesn’t kill her before she can fix it.

This is what Adora thought she was supposed to do. This is what she _wanted_ to do.

But she can’t.

Adora remembers what she said to Catra more than two years ago in the Heart: _I’ve failed._ Because it’s finally true, and she has.

Adora looks at Catra, who’s watching Adora with a mixture of concern, awe, and, more than anything else, love.

“I—I can’t do it,” Adora gasps as the planet keeps _taking_ from her. “I _can’t_.”

“Look,” Catra whispers. “You already are.”

Adora forces herself to look past the person she loves more than anything, to where tender, new plants are poking out from soil that hasn’t known life in so long. To where the sun isn’t red and angry anymore, but a brilliant gold with a sky the color of She-Ra’s eyes surrounding it.

Then Adora remembers.

She wasn’t alone at the Heart when she thought she failed but didn’t—and she’s not alone here, either.

Catra’s with her. She has been for a long time, and she’s promised to be there for the rest of their lives.

“Come on, Adora.” Catra kneels in front of her, and covers Adora’s hands with her own around the sword’s handle. “You don’t know how to fail.”

Adora’s heart turns to fire. For so long, she thought She-Ra was separate from who _Adora_ is, that she wasn’t part of the magic herself. But Adora knows better now. She-Ra is magic, but she’s also the love in Adora’s chest, the bravery Adora feels when people she loves are close. She’s a kiss in the heart of a planet after it seems like she’s failed, when in truth, everything has barely begun.

Adora lets the magic in, and there’s no end to how much she can hold.

Then she gives it all back—and the planet blooms.

***

Catra watches a whole planet celebrate.

It’s the fourth one she’s visited with Adora, a month and half after the first. This one is covered in red-gold deserts sliced apart with canyons like knife cuts. The cities here are built along the canyon walls, and where there used to be only stone inside the canyons, Adora brought the planet’s rivers back. Their waters are turquoise, sparkling with magic—magic that powers their cities and makes the fruit trees glow like they have stars tucked inside their bark.

Everything glows, because Adora is here, and she’s brought magic with her.

The planet’s people remind her of Rogelio, standing on two legs with thick scales, tails, snouts, and crests down their spines. Everyone is friendly enough, even though neither Catra nor Adora can understand anything anyone says. They make glowing fruit juice and share it with everyone nearby, roast silver-scaled fish over fires, or snarl in what Catra assumes are songs, but she isn’t quite sure. Either way, they sound happy. They tuck flowers behind Adora’s ears, and Catra even lets them.

So much happiness, all because of Adora.

Catra knows the feeling.

So she’s content to sit back and enjoy watching Adora try to talk to a kid who’s making expansive motions with their clawed hands and a series of high-pitched growls. Adora’s flushed with the planet’s heat, the flowers behind her ears enormous and colorful. She’s laughing, at ease, and Catra thinks she catches the glow of magic in the backs of Adora’s eyes when Adora glances over at her.

Adora raises an eyebrow, silently asking if Catra wants company, but Catra waves her off, wanting Adora to enjoy her night however she wants to. When someone comes over to Catra and hands her a hollow stone filled with luminescent fruit juice, she thanks them and smiles, hoping they understand. They growl a response, pat her between the ears with a startling familiarity, and lope away.

Catra blinks in surprise at the touch, and how she didn’t feel a need to flinch away from it. She sips the juice that stains her lips, and is tart and sweet and somehow tastes like summer, and decides she wants to be a part of the night.

A little unsure, she makes her way over to the edge of a fire surrounded by singing people and hovers there. They growl and snarl, but if Catra listens hard enough, she can hear a rough rhythm to it. One of them meets her eyes, and gestures for her to join them.

So she does, and they fold her into their song, bumping her shoulders with theirs in time with whatever they’re saying. Accepting her, because she came here with Adora, and that’s enough for them. But it’s also because she helped Adora—helped her be where they are, giving back to the universe the only way they know how.

She’s ready to keep helping, if she can.

Catra might not be magic, but maybe, she can be kind—if she _acts_ kind, that’s what she is.

Adora finds her near dawn, when the light from the planet’s two orange suns starts to spill over the horizon. Catra is around a dying fire, listening to the songs that haven’t stopped since the suns went down, sipping the juice she had far too much of, her feet kicked out carelessly toward the coals, all of her warm and content.

“You seem like you had fun,” Adora says.

“I did.” Catra offers Adora a sip of her juice. “But I think I’m ready for another adventure.”

When Adora takes a drink, her lips glow pale blue, and Catra can’t resist the urge to lean forward and kiss it all off. Adora melts against her mouth, hand going to Catra’s face, holding her jaw like she has a thousand times before, but every time it still feels new to Catra.

“What was that for?” Adora asks with a dopey smile.

“Oh, nothing.” Catra kisses Adora’s nose. “Just because I love you.”

Catra used to want to be the best at so many things—being a villain, a leader, a force that dared people to get in her way. Now, all she wants is to be the best at being a friend, and being with Adora. She’s learned so much already, but still wants to know more.

“I love you, too,” Adora says.

Catra thinks, if she tries hard enough, she can be whatever she wants.

***

Adora learns how to read a planet’s echoes.

She knows how much magic it needs before it’ll come back to life, how much it will take from her before it doesn’t need her to restart its heart anymore. But Adora isn’t afraid of how much magic anywhere needs—whenever she feels like she isn’t enough, all she has to do is look at Catra, and remember she’s not alone, and won’t be again. All she has to do is remember this is what she wants.

So Adora knows this planet only needs a spark. She doesn’t even need to become She-Ra to know that.

Catra walks beside her on the ninth planet they’ve visited, ten months after they left Etheria. It’s after dark, and the stars shine down from overhead onto a million faceted crystals colored in every shade of pink and purple and red. Adora knows she should be admiring the brand new world around her, whose heart she’ll restart soon, but she can’t help but look at the lights overhead that remind her of her friends.

She misses them. Misses their voices, and their warmth, and the way they smile. She doesn’t know how long it’ll be until they’re together again, how long it’ll take until she and Catra find their way home. The universe is so big, and there are so many places that miss the magic only she can give back.

“You look like you’re thinking too much,” Catra says from inside her spacesuit—the air isn’t breathable here.

“Mm.” Adora drags her eyes to the planet again, her gaze catching against a thousand jeweled edges. “Wondering about how much left there is to do.”

Catra bumps Adora’s shoulder with hers. “Guess you better get started then.”

Adora centers herself around Catra’s voice, using it to anchor herself to the ground. “I think you just like to watch me transform.”

“I—I do not!”

“Look at your _blush_!”

“I am _not_ blushing!”

“You’re still cute in that spacesuit, you know.” Adora makes a motion near her head. “It’s the ears.”

“Will you fix this place already?”

Adora laughs, and Catra smirks at the sound.

“You’re such an idiot,” Catra says.

“Trying to fix a planet, here.”

Catra saunters close. “I’m sorry—am I distracting you?”

Adora takes Catra’s hand in hers. “In a good way, though.”

Catra squeezes her fingers. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Adora smiles, closes her eyes, and reaches—and She-Ra is waiting for her. She finds the love in her chest that burns so much brighter whenever Catra is close, and the patient love she has for the friends who wait for her, and the love that stretches across the universe whose magic she wants to give back.

Adora lets the light in, because it’s always loved her, too—and she transforms.

***

Catra follows the starlight.

She follows it until she finds Adora, who’s on the main deck, seated in the pilot’s chair, inputting a new course into Darla’s navigation system. At the other end of universe, somewhere in all the light they’ve been exploring, will be another planet for Adora to give magic back to.

But tonight isn’t about any of that—it’s about Adora, and about them both.

Tonight, Catra just wants their first anniversary to be special.

She wasn’t sure how to make anything special, though, so far from home. Wasn’t sure how to make a certain day feel _more_ than all the others—because surrounded by stars and magic and planets with names she doesn’t know, it feels hard to make anything small seem significant anymore.

But Catra is going to try, even if what little she’s managed to put together might not be enough to celebrate something that means so much. Something that means _everything_ to her.

“I have a surprise,” Catra blurts anxiously. She’s never done this before—why did she think she could?

Adora doesn’t look up from the navigation panel. “A surprise?”

“Yeah, so… surprise?” Catra’s tail flicks back and forth, ears flatten involuntarily—does Adora even remember what day it is?

Adora finally looks up, blinking, smiling a little. “Are _you_ my surprise?”

“No!”

“You’re a very nice surprise, Catra.”

Catra’s flushes. “Just—just come with me, okay?”

Adora follows her to the bedroom they’ve made their own, gasping at everything Catra’s done.

The lights are low, dimmed to soft shades of purple that blink sporadically in the walls. Catra played with Darla’s systems for three days before she figured it all out—and made the best discovery of all. Behind the bed, on top of which Catra’s set up an entire meal and a present for Adora, there’s a viewport they didn’t know about. Catra figured out how to open it, and now they’ll be able to see the stars every night.

Catra knows Adora loves the stars, so even though they make her feel small sometimes, she can’t help but love them, too.

“This is all for me?” Adora asks, then kisses Catra’s cheek before she can answer.

Catra can’t help the way she blushes again. “Obviously.”

“Is there a _reason_?” Adora asks in a singsong voice.

“Of course there is.” Catra crosses her arms, turning to face Adora. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

Adora twirls a piece of her hair around one finger. “Forgot what?”

“You _did_. You forgot our anniversary!”

But Adora only pulls a silver ball out of her jacket pocket with a grin. “I definitely didn’t. Your surprise is nicer, though.”

“What’s that?” Catra can’t help her curiosity.

“It’s for you.”

Catra uncrosses her arms and takes it. It’s a silver ball, dense, like it’s made of metal. “I don’t get it.”

Adora reaches over and touches a hidden button on the side. The ball lights up with a soft chiming sound and spins out of Catra’s hand to bounce randomly around the room. Catra’s eyes can’t help but track it—she wants to chase it. The urge is almost overwhelming.

“Like it?” Adora asks.

“It’s okay.” Catra’s ears twitch as it jerks around the corner of the bed.

Adora’s voice is teasing. “Okay?”

“I might like it.”

Catra loves it.

“You can chase it, you know.”

“I—I don’t want to chase it!” But her tail twitches as it zooms back around the bed and bumps into Adora’s feet.

Adora picks it up and powers it down, so it becomes a simple silver ball again. “If you say so.”

“I do. I do say so.”

Catra’s going to chase it so much, later—when Adora isn’t around, of course.

Adora moves inside and stands in front of the viewport, staring out at the stars.

“Can’t believe we could’ve had this view for a year,” Catra says, going to stand beside her.

“Do you wonder what Bow and Glimmer are doing?” Adora asks suddenly. “What everyone’s doing without us?”

Catra looks toward a specific star in the sky, in the direction Adora has told her so many times leads back to Etheria. She remembers Glimmer kissing her cheek whenever Catra was unexpectedly kind, Bow’s steady support, Scorpia and Perfuma’s unending warmth, Melog understanding her feelings before she knows them herself. She remembers Bright Moon on the day they left it behind, everyone celebrating Catra and Adora’s love, which was so long in the making.

“I just—I hope they’re happy,” Catra says with an ache in her chest. “I hope they’re still waiting when we go home.”

Adora turns to look at her, forehead crinkling. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

Catra shrugs as the old anxiety rears up in her. “People leave sometimes.”

“Not them.” Adora shakes her head, and touches Catra’s jaw. “They promised. Like you and me do. They’ll be there, Catra, and they’ll be so happy to see you.”

“Do you want to see them, too?” Catra forces her fear away, because Adora is right. Her friends love her, and she loves them. They’ll be waiting in Bright Moon, and they’ll celebrate the same way they did a year ago, but this time, there won’t be any goodbyes.

“I have so much left to do,” Adora says. “The universe needs me.”

“Your friends need you,” Catra reminds her, because no matter what else Adora is, she’ll never be rid of the part of herself that wants to carry the entire universe on her shoulders. “I need you, too.”

Adora looks at her, and if the sky could be one color forever, Catra wants it to be the perfect gray-blue of Adora’s eyes.

“What do you want, Adora?” Catra asks.

“I want to go home,” Adora whispers. “But not yet.”

Catra puts her hands on Adora’s waist, and pulls her close. Their foreheads press together, and the heat of Adora’s breath warms Catra’s face. “So how about we give it another year? You can bring some more magic to the universe—but then we go home. Live our lives just for ourselves for a little while.”

“What would even _do_?”

“Anything we want.” Catra pauses, feeling the weight of her suggestion in the space between their mouths. “What do you think, princess?”

“I think I love that,” Adora says. “And I love you, too.”

One year.

They can wait one more year.

Then, all they have to do is follow their hearts home again.

Catra tries to look at the star that points in the direction of Etheria, but all its light leads back to Adora. She should’ve known wherever Adora is, light will be there, too, because it loves her like Catra does—enough to follow her across an entire universe.


	6. weight of the stars (three-four years later)

When Adora can’t sleep, she watches the stars. They remind her of the friends she misses, who she’s left behind for a little more than a year now. She wonders if she’s worth waiting for that long.

The instrument panels at the front of the spaceship blink green and blue and purple, bathing the pilot’s deck in soft swaths of light. Their next destination, chosen by nothing more than the ever-present tug in Adora’s heart that leads to the next planet that needs magic, has already been input into Darla’s systems. All Adora has to do now is wait to arrive.

She has nothing but time, the empty, bright spaces between the places that need her, and the life she’s making with Catra.

It’s a life she loves.

But Adora’s mind is still full—of her friends, and of home. Of all the things she’s missing in Bright Moon, and how much everything must have changed without her.

Catra sighs in her sleep, distracting Adora from her thoughts for a moment. Catra is curled up in Adora’s lap, her face tucked against Adora’s heartbeat, tail wrapped lazily around Adora’s waist, hair messy and cropped near her chin. Her forehead is warm against Adora’s throat, and one ear tickles Adora’s neck as it twitches in Catra’s sleep.

Adora thinks about how much everything must have changed without _them_.

Adora sighs, the movement shallow as she tries not to wake Catra. Still sleeping, Catra’s hands curl tighter where they hold the fabric of Adora’s shirt—like she’s still worried, after all this time, Adora will leave her while she dreams.

Maybe it’s a part of Catra she’ll never be rid of—the fear of being left, and not being wanted.

Adora won’t leave her, though, and she’s wanted her for a long time. When she holds Catra a little tighter, Catra’s hands relax.

But Adora remembers when _she_ was the one waking up alone, before she ever saw the Heart of Etheria or realized the universe held so much more of a destiny for her than just a sword. She remembers being on her knees in the Whispering Woods, telling Catra she had to do this, that she had to save everyone even if it cost Adora everything.

Her life has always been something she’s willing to give if it means the people she loves are safe. It’s who she’s always been, who she still is after all this time. No matter how many months pass, or how many planets she gives magic back to, she feels the weight of the stars on her back, waiting for her to give them their magic.

This is her responsibility. It’s what she’s made for. No matter how tired she is, or how homesick—Adora promised to give the universe another year.

She can wait one more year.

She _promised_.

Adora’s eyes droop. The stars streak across the enormous viewport.

She can do it for the universe, and for the magic she keeps safe in her chest like all the promises she’s made since saving Etheria.

Then she’ll go home, and she’ll rest. She’ll figure out how to be still, because all she’s ever known is momentum.

She promised she would learn how to do that, too.

Catra curls closer against Adora’s ribs, reminding Adora she won’t have to figure out any of it alone. Adora’s chest tightens in the same way it did when it let the failsafe go—like there’s a whole universe of love inside her, and she’s too small to carry it by herself.

When Adora sleeps, Mara visits her in her dreams. She shows Adora everyone she loves, their faces brighter than any magic, and reminds Adora she deserves them.

***

Catra hates this planet.

It’s the thirtieth planet she and Adora visit, a year and a four months since they left Etheria, a place of damp, chill mists, and twisted, gray-black things that might be trees who hate anything that isn’t from _here_ —which, unfortunately, includes her and Adora.

“Can we agree coming here was a mistake _now_?” Catra growls as she leaps over a tree branch—at least, Catra _thinks_ it’s a branch, she doesn’t know what else to call it. Whatever it is, it makes the fur along her arms stand on end.

“Fine!” Adora, already transformed into She-Ra, just punches the branch and makes it snap clean in two. “It was a—” She breaks another branch into pieces. “—bad idea!”

Something nearby shrieks in what sounds like pain, and Catra hisses as they bound forward, trying to get clear of the horrible trees and back to the ship that’s become home while they travel.

A shadow moves in the trees, an animal of some sort Catra can’t make out, but it’s coming for them too fast for Catra to do anything but shout “ _Adora_ ” before whatever it is slams into her like a wall of shadows.

Catra snarls, raking at skin that feels like stone, her claws useless. Whatever the creature is, it throws her into the walls of moving trees, their branches reaching for her like talons.

“Catra!” Adora screams.

Catra slams into the forest of moving trees, and everything goes black.

The planet, it seems, hates her back.

***

Adora becomes fire.

When the creature Adora doesn’t have a name for takes Catra, the light inside Adora becomes a heat she’s only ever felt once before—when she saved Catra from Horde Prime, and carried her broken body back to the spaceship.

So many people in Adora’s life miscalculated. Hordak. Shadow Weaver. Horde Prime.

Now these _trees_ , or whatever they are, have, too.

The planet has become cruel— _corrupted_ —without its magic, and doesn’t want it back.

Adora doesn’t care.

She blasts power in radiant arcs from her sword, her eyes glowing a hot blue like a flame. The trees start to burn, and there’s wailing all around—the ground itself sounds like it’s screaming. Adora forces back a shiver of horror at the sound, and lets herself fade away until she’s nothing but magic, nothing but She-Ra, and destroys it all.

Because she doesn’t know a world without Catra, and refuses to accept a reality so horribly different than everything she’s known, and still wants to.

They’re not done yet. They have so much left to do.

The trees give Catra back, still unconscious, but She-Ra only steps over Catra’s prone form, half-blind with magic and rage and power, and keeps tearing them apart.

Her body turns radiant gold with power as she decimates it all, everything that dared to turn her magic away, then hurt the person she loves more than anything in the universe.

She burns, and she burns, and she burns.

“Adora.”

The voice brings Adora crashing back to herself, her lungs heaving, eyes and skin burning, her sword terrible with light in her hand.

“ _Adora_.” The way Catra says it is sad, and exhausted, and weak with pain.

There’s a hand on her arm, cool against Adora’s skin and keeping her from burning again. Adora’s jaw clenches, breath hisses through her teeth. “This place—it _hurt_ you.”

“It’s over, Adora.” Catra wraps her arms around Adora’s waist from behind, her head only coming to just below She-Ra’s shoulder blades. “I’m okay. Let it go. Just—just let it go.”

Adora blinks against the magic in her eyes blinding her, the light spilling from her sword in endless waves. She breathes, anchoring herself around the person holding her still.

Adora lets the light go, and transforms back into herself.

“It’s okay,” Catra whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Adora sags against Catra, breathing hard, and looks at what she’s done. There’s nothing but ash and broken trees for a quarter mile, everything gray and dead. Her eyes burn, and her shoulders curl forward.

“I couldn’t fix this place,” Adora says.

Catra kisses the back of Adora’s neck. “You can’t fix something unless that’s what it wants. That’s not your responsibility.”

Adora stares at the ruin she’s made, her magic carved like a scar across the planet she only wanted to help.

“Catra,” Adora says. “I miss Etheria. I miss our friends.”

“I can take you home,” Catra says. “We can go right now.”

But Adora doesn’t want to break her promise. She’s given so much already, and she can give a little more—because when she has, she’s going home, and she’s going to live her life with Catra any way she wants to.

She knows, when they get there together, she’ll deserve it.

Adora turns and slips her arms around Catra’s shoulders. They fit together a little differently every year, their bodies changing, growing older, even as each touch is more comfortable than the one before it—and as much as Adora misses Etheria, _this_ is home, too. Catra is, and has been for a long time.

Adora can keep her promise. She can, because she isn’t alone, and maybe she doesn’t have to carry it by herself, either.

“Not yet,” Adora says, marveling at how much of her universe she can hold against her chest. “Not yet.”

***

Catra watches She-Ra touch her sword to a planet’s soil before everything turns into light. It reminds Catra of the failsafe glowing in Adora’s chest, the way Adora looked the night Catra asked Adora to marry her, how the stars all lead back to Adora no matter where they are.

Light reminds her of so many things, when it comes to Adora.

When the magic fades, the planet is remade.

Strange, curling vines mat the once-dead ground between jumbled heaps of stone that stretch as far as Catra can see toward the horizon, where three suns flirt with the horizon and stain the sky in an eternal sunset of oranges, pinks, and yellows. From the vines grow flowers that glow like Bright Moon at night—soft, glowing, like pearls. They smell like a fire at the end of summer. Thin cracks marring the ground among the vines begin to fill with water so clear it’s almost invisible against the dirt.

She-Ra stands from where she kneels, the point of her sword still buried in the ground, and looks at the sky. The suns outline her in fire.

There’s a dimmer flash of gold, and She-Ra becomes Adora again. So much smaller, who looks so much more tired than Catra has seen her in a long time—since before Catra followed her into the Heart of Etheria, and they saved their first world together. 

Adora has saved so many more, now.

They’ve been away from Etheria for almost two years. Two years of stars, and planets, and magic. Two years of giving back to the universe that’s shown them so many amazing things. But Catra worries about how much Adora can give without draining herself dry, and how much she can carry without her shoulders breaking from the strain.

“You ready to go, Princess?” Catra asks, but her voice is soft, teasing. It’s taken her so long, but she’s learned to be gentle. “You look like you’re ready for bed.”

Adora joins Catra where she sits on top of a boulder, easily boosting herself into the seat beside Catra. Vines rustle at the base of the rock as they settle back into place, and the smell of their flowers drifts upwards. Adora’s body fills the space comfortably, warmly. Her shoulder presses against Catra’s as Catra reaches for Adora’s hand and threads their fingers together.

“Let’s just? Sit for a while?” Adora asks.

Catra tugs on the end of Adora’s braid—Adora’s hair is longer now than Catra has ever seen it. “Whatever you want.”

Adora makes a tired, happy hum. She puts her head on Catra’s shoulder. Catra savors the weight of it, how solid Adora is tucked against her side—how she’s seen what feels like half the universe, but the most amazing thing she’s ever known is right beside her.

She doesn’t want the universe to take all the light before Adora gets to use some of it to live for herself, though.

“You wanna hear something ridiculous?” Catra asks with a little laugh.

“Always,” Adora says, sounding amused.

“I’ve had you to myself, in space, all alone, for almost two years now.” Catra’s face warms as she curls her tail around Adora’s waist. “But all I keep thinking about is how I want more.”

“More?” Adora asks. “Tell me about this _more_.”

Catra shrugs, the motion slight so she doesn’t disturb Adora. “You’ve done so much for the universe the last couple years. But I want you to myself for a while—I want to go home. See what kind of life is waiting for us there. Nothing to save. Nothing to give, except what we give to each other and our friends.”

It’s so much easier to say what she wants now. The words are still hard, but she pushes through how difficult it is to be vulnerable, to let Adora see all the different parts of her.

“It feels selfish, you know?” Catra asks. “But it’d be nice to just—be _us_ for a little while. We’ve never done that before. And I see how tired you are, Adora. I see how much weight you’re carrying.”

“You make it so I don’t have to carry it by myself.” Adora nuzzles Catra’s shoulder. “Do _you_ wanna know something that isn’t ridiculous at all?”

Catra purrs a pleased laugh. “Of course.”

“I really, really love you.”

“What do you think?” Catra’s stomach flutters in anticipation of Adora’s answer.

“Two more months?” Adora asks. “It’s what we said last year on our anniversary. I want to keep my promise.”

“Two more months,” Catra promises, and the warmth in her chest when she kisses Adora’s hair is the closest thing to magic she’s ever known.

They’re going home—not yet.

But soon.

***

Adora watches the stars, and feels the love in their light.

They point her toward home. Toward Etheria, and her friends. Toward the next part of her life with Catra—one she can’t wait to start, where she’ll figure out how to rest. Adora can’t remember a time where she wasn’t _giving_ , but she’s ready to learn.

The stars flash by the spaceship as Adora puts in the next destination on their trip—the last one, at least for now, to the place she’s missed so much.

Home.

Adora wants to come back to the stars with Catra, one day, but she wants to bring their friends with them.

Her fingers dance across Darla’s interface, familiar with the controls after two years. Catra sits at the viewport, one leg and her tail swinging through the air, her ears pricked with excitement.

“ _Confirm destination_ ,” Darla says.

“You ready, Adora?” Catra smirks over her shoulder, beautiful as the stars outline her in light. “Oh. And happy anniversary.”

Adora spins the ring Catra gave her around her finger, love filling every beat of her heart, and smiles. “Take us home, Darla.”

***

Catra waits to wake Adora up.

The stars slow around the ship until they stand still. Catra pulls in a slow breath, and looks at the home she loves spread out in front of her.

Horde Prime’s ship, in orbit around the planet, has grown taller since they’ve been gone. The trees and flowers She-Ra turned it into four years ago have grown stronger, just like Adora herself has. Everything below is green and blue and white, all of it sparkling, its cities hidden beneath clouds.

Catra can feel the rightness of the moment in her stomach, in her chest.

She laughs as she runs through the spaceship that’s become her and Adora’s, body flying around familiar corners until she lets herself into their room. Catra is breathless, but she’s smiling, and she can’t wait to see the friends who promised to wait for her soon.

She knows they’ll keep their promise—like Adora has, and like she has, too.

But she and Adora have been away for so long, and it’s time to live for themselves, for each other, and for their friends.

Nothing to save, or give.

Only them.

Adora stirs at Catra’s presence, blinking against the starlight as she wakes up.

Catra has seen a hundred different skies now, but none of them are as perfect a color as Adora’s eyes.

“Hey, Adora,” Catra says. “We’re home.”


	7. homecoming (four years later)

When Adora steps off the ship, Etheria is waiting for her.

Bright Moon glows like a purple-sheened pearl. The waterfalls bracketing the castle seem lit from within, throwing mist into the cool, late-summer evening. Adora takes a breath, and it’s full of the ocean, the blooming plants tucked away inside the castle’s gardens, the trees along the cliffs that baked in the heat all day. Everything green and blue and purple, all of it beautiful. Her eyes trace the shape of the runestone overhead, which pulses softly with light.

Adora breathes, and breathes, until her ribs strain with how much of _home_ she’s trying to take in all at once. She remembers how this place looked just after dawn on her wedding, how it wasn’t cloaked in twilight, but in gold and white like she was that day.

This is a place where so many important things have happened to her.

Adora smiles, unable to hide how happy she is.

“We made it,” Catra says softly as she stands behind Adora and puts her chin on Adora’s shoulder.

Adora relaxes into Catra, their bodies pressing together—the last moment of being truly alone they might have for a long while. So she turns, and she kisses Catra, who purrs a pleased laugh after they break apart. Adora memorizes the sound, the ease between them after two years spent bringing magic back to what Adora hopes is a grateful universe.

Adora missed her friends, but even in the middle of an ocean of stars and the darkness between them, Adora was never lonely—Catra was always there with her.

Catra’s here now, too. Adora’s lips are warm with her breath, and there’s a heat in Adora’s chest only Catra can kindle. She feels it now, its light the steadiest thing Adora knows. Catra is smiling as she traces Adora’s jaw, and she’s beautiful.

“Ready to see everyone, Princess?” Catra asks.

“Yeah,” Adora says. “I am.”

Catra grins. “They don’t even know we’re coming. Sparkles is gonna be _so_ surprised.”

Adora laughs at the delight in Catra’s eyes. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting, then.”

It doesn’t take them long to walk the road that leads into Bright Moon. Their fingers are threaded together, comfortable and easy. But when they go inside the castle, everything is strangely… empty. No guards along the walls, no one inside the council chamber, no voices echoing through the halls. The courtyards are cloaked in evening, but there’s nothing inside them but flowers and fountains.

The back of Adora’s neck prickles, muscles tense as they creep toward the throne room. Beside her, Catra’s tail twitches, ears are flat against her head. Adora reaches for She-Ra and their magic, and both wait for her. Heat builds behind Adora’s eyes as they start to glow, but she doesn’t transform.

Not yet.

The throne room doors are closed, but the faint sound of voices trickles out. There’s a muffled curse, someone shushing other people, shuffling footsteps.

“Be careful,” Catra whispers as she extends her claws.

“Always am,” Adora says, then shoves open the doors.

The light inside blinds her for a moment. She blinks hard as Catra hisses, ready to spring forward.

“ _Welcome home_!” an entire chorus of voices screams.

When the light fades from Adora’s eyes, all her friends are waiting.

“How—how did you even _know_ —” Adora gasps.

“It was me! And _science_!” Entrapta shouts, bouncing in place between Hordak and Wrong Hordak, who both look undeniably pleased with themselves.

“And me.” Bow smiles where he stands next to Glimmer, one arm around her shoulders. His hair is longer than Adora has ever seen it, tied back with a slip of amethyst silk, his outfit made from panels of lavender, pale blue, and butter yellow cloth. “We’ve set up some defenses around Etheria since you left. One of them lets us know when ships are nearby, but Entrapta always forgets that I helped her with it.”

“We’ve known you were coming for _days_ ,” Glimmer says with a grin.

But there’s something in Glimmer’s arms, a bundle of blankets out of which pokes a tiny head with a crown of brown-and-purple hair. When Adora squints, the hair seems to—no, it _is_ sparkling, just like Glimmer’s.

Adora can’t catch her breath. “Is that—is that a _baby_? Is it yours?”

Glimmer and Bow only smile as Swift Wind charges toward Adora with a delighted whinny.

“You all ruined it!” But Catra’s laughing as Melog tackles her at the waist and takes them both to the floor. “This was supposed to be our surprise!”

Glimmer smirks. “Foiled again, Horde Scum.”

Adora smiles and looks around the throne room, catching Scorpia crying into Perfuma’s shoulder, and Frosta leaning against the wall and making it snow over everyone. Micah is standing beside Glimmer, unable to stop playing with the tiny toes sticking out of the blankets Glimmer holds like it’s half her heart. Sea Hawk and Mermista are laughing at how shocked Adora is, at how ridiculous and huge Adora’s grin is.

This is a place where so many important things have happened to her. Where she gave herself to a rebellion and was accepted, where she married Catra, where their friends waited for them to come home. When she’s here, all she feels is love.

“I—I missed you guys _so much_.” Adora starts crying as Swift Wind crashes into her. “I’m so happy to be home.”

A long time ago, a very different girl—one who didn’t know the burn of a failsafe in her chest, or understand how much love a life could hold—promised Catra she would take them home again, and now, they’re finally here.

***

Catra catches her breath beneath a canopy of flowers.

The party has been going for hours, everyone talking and dancing the evening away until dark crept in outside the windows.

But the darkness doesn’t bother Catra. Inside, they make their own light. Soft globes of magic drift through the air, tangling in all the flowers and vines Perfuma grew across the room. They shine soft gold across the snow Frosta makes, which dusts everyone’s shoulders and hair.

Catra leans against a flower-covered wall, uncaring of the silver pollen that stains her shirt. Across the throne room, Bow and Glimmer’s daughter—her name is Sparkle, Catra can’t believe they named their kid _Sparkle_ —is tucked safe against Bow’s chest. When Catra teased them about the name earlier, Bow told her Sparkle reminded him of Catra—fierce, unwilling to listen to anyone, too smart for her own good—and Catra flushed from her neck to her hairline. Adora is dancing with Glimmer, Perfuma with Scorpia. Sea Hawk shouts about something, and Mermista covers his mouth with her hand. Her groan is audible, even over the music Entrapta has playing through an old piece of First Ones’ tech.

Melog twines through Catra’s legs, making a contented, pleased sound.

“Yeah,” Catra says with a smile, petting their ears. “I missed you, too.”

Catra has missed this place, these people. She’s missed being surrounded by so many familiar voices that sound like their own kind of music when they overlap.

She can’t believe they waited for her all this time. They kept their promise. The knowledge is a fire in her chest, because she came back, and no one left her behind for better things.

When the music changes, Glimmer catches Catra’s eye as Adora teases Frosta until they both spin away, dancing.

“Wanna dance?” Glimmer calls over.

Catra pushes herself away from the wall, sweeping into a ridiculous bow.

Glimmer laughs, the music swells, and they’re off.

The only dancing Catra’s done the last two years was with Adora, both of them usually laughing as they spun through the spaceship without any music but their own heartbeats. So it’s strange to find a rhythm with someone else, but after a minute, they settle. Catra sighs, relieved as the old familiarity eases between them again, the one that formed after making right so many of the wrongs between them.

Catra remembers how to do this—how to dance with her friend, and be around someone she loves who isn’t Adora. It’s a different sort of comfort, but it’s still something she loves.

Catra twirls Glimmer under her arm, and Glimmer’s lavender, white, and gold dress sparkles.

“Can’t believe you’re a mom,” Catra says with a smirk. “Makes you sound so… _old_.”

Glimmer swats Catra’s arm. “If I’m old, so are you.”

“Feels like it’s been a million years since all of this started,” Catra says with a disbelieving laugh. “Me fighting the rebellion, then fighting _for_ it, princess prom, the wedding, space—”

“Did you like it out there?” Glimmer asks as Catra dips her. “Only Adora and the stars for company.”

“It was… peaceful. Sometimes. Other times it wasn’t.” Catra lifts Glimmer from the dip, remembering everything her and Adora did while they were away, and Glimmer steadies herself on Catra’s shoulders. “Nothing like home, though.”

“I can’t wait to hear about all of it.” Glimmer’s expression softens from happiness to something kinder, more affectionate. “You took care of her.”

“I told you that was the plan, Sparkles.” Catra laughs quietly. “Besides, we took care of each other.”

“I’m glad you’re both home,” Glimmer says as the song ends, and other people Catra’s missed yell for her to dance with them, because they haven’t gotten a turn and they’ve missed her, too. “We really missed you.”

“It’s good to _be_ home, Sparkles.” Catra looks at her friend, who Catra realizes would’ve waited for her no matter how many years she spent away, and smiles. “We—I—missed you, too.”

Glimmer kisses Catra’s cheek, and Catra’s eyes meet Adora’s as Glimmer pulls away.

Catra listens hard, ignoring the overlapping music and voices, until she finds the sound of Adora’s heartbeat waiting beneath it all.

Adora arches one eyebrow in expectation.

“Excuse me,” Catra says. “I need to dance with my wife.”

“Have fun.” Glimmer laughs, and lets Catra go. “We’ll talk more later. I want stories, do you hear me? All your best stories from _space_!”

They’ll have all the time they need, because Catra is home, and she isn’t leaving again for a long time.

***

Adora sits with the future queen of Bright Moon in her arms.

“Hi, Sparkle,” Adora says quietly, touching her soft, glittering hair that’s a perfect mixture of Bow and Glimmer’s. “I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to get to know each other yet. We will now.”

The future queen stirs in her blankets, but not enough to wake up. Adora leans back in her chair, sighing, feeling more at ease than she has since the day her and Catra left Etheria. Because while the universe was exciting, and new, and needed her—this is what _Adora_ needs. Catra, and her friends, all of them at home, with no war to fight. This is where she’s happiest.

Adora smiles as Scorpia excitedly shows Catra the magic-charmed bracelet made of vines that never withers around her wrist. Perfuma gave it to Scorpia six months ago when she proposed, and Scorpia, of course, accepted. Catra smirks as she asks Scorpia something Adora can’t hear, but Scorpia nods and lets Catra touch the bracelet and admire it properly.

The sight is cut short by Glimmer and Bow as they join Adora, sitting on either side of her, both of them clearly exhausted, but still smiling. Adora’s face hurts from how much they’ve _all_ been grinning at one another—and even though it’s late, and dawn will be here sooner than any of them anticipate, Adora never wants the night to end.

“I can take her if you’re tired, Adora,” Bow says, gesturing at Sparkle, who’s now sucking her thumb as she sleeps in Adora’s arms. “You must be exhausted.”

But Adora doesn’t want to give the baby back. Not yet. She holds her friends’ child a little tighter, and Sparkle snuggles into Adora’s arms. “I’ve got her. We have lost time to make up for.”

“She’s only five months old.” Glimmer laughs softly. “I think she’ll forgive you.”

But Bow and Glimmer exchange a look then, full of something unspoken, but Adora can feel the heaviness of it in the air.

“What is it?” Adora asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“Well…” Bow shrugs. “It’s just, I have _so_ many siblings, but Glimmer—”

“I don’t have any,” Glimmer finishes.

“Okay?” Adora says, unsure of where the conversation is heading.

Glimmer laughs. “But _you’re_ the closest thing I have to a sister, Adora. So…”

Adora’s heart warms at the word, but she still doesn’t understand. “So… ?”

Bow shakes his head good naturedly and puts a hand on Adora’s shoulder. “So we’d like you to be Sparkle’s _aunt_ , Adora.”

“Me?” Adora asks, heart beating faster. “Really?”

“Really,” Glimmer says with another laugh. “Like you aren’t part of our family already. This just makes it official.”

“So, would you want that? To be her aunt?” Bow squeezes Adora’s shoulder. “You can say no.”

Adora’s eyes burn, but she manages to keep herself from crying again. “Why _wouldn’t_ I want that?”

Family.

Adora is home with her family, and they have so much growing and learning to do together.

“That’s a yes, then?” Glimmer asks excitedly, clapping her hands together.

“Yes,” Adora says.

“Oh, I can’t wait to tell my dads you said yes!” Bow says. “They’re going to be so excited, and you’ll have to—”

“If I may have your attention, my dearest friends!” Sea Hawk shouts as he jumps on top of a table and brandishes his glowing rapier in the air with a flourish. “Tonight is a night of note! Our friends have come home, we are all together, and, if I do say so, this is a night meant for _celebration_!”

“Sea Hawk,” Mermista says. “You don’t have to make a speech—it might be better if you don’t, actually.”

Everyone laughs, even Sea Hawk, who only turns to Mermista. “But my real speech is meant for you! Because, you see, I dearly, dearly love you.”

Mermista puts her face in her hands, but peeks through her fingers at him.

Sea Hawk puts his sword away, and instead pulls out a ring made from tiny, interlocking seashells. “Dearest, I ardently wish to spend the rest of my life with you. If you’ll have me.”

Mermista’s hands drop from her face. “I—”

A series of explosions overhead throw color and light across the room, scaring everyone.

“Sorry!” Entrapta shouts from where she’s hidden with Wrong Hordak behind a smoking box. Soot smears both their faces. “That wasn’t supposed to happen yet!”

In Adora’s arms, Sparkle wakes up, blinking in the light raining down from overhead—and Sparkle smiles.

Glimmer and Bow gasp, leaning close. “She’s never smiled before!” Glimmer says.

“Look at her!” Bow says. “Our girl! _Smiling_!”

“Is that a yes, dearest?” Sea Hawk asks Mermista as sparks fall around them, colored in all the shades of the ocean.

Mermista takes the ring from him, puts it on her finger, and instead of answering, kisses him.

Everyone cheers, and the whole room is full of a warmth that only comes when everyone inside it cares for one another, a warmth they share because everything between them matters.

Is tonight everything Adora wanted it to be?

_Yes_ , Adora knows. _It is_.

***

Catra sits with Scorpia as the last hours of the night creep toward the sun.

“Do you remember when it was just the two of us?” Scorpia asks, staring across the throne room to where Perfuma, Adora, Wrong Hordak, Entrapta, and Hordak sit together, talking. “Oh, and Lonnie and Rogelio and Kyle—they’re all living together outside Thaymor now, they run a business, can you _believe_ that?—but it’s nice just to have _us_ back together, like the original—”

“You haven’t changed at all, Scorpia,” Catra says with a laugh. “That’s a compliment, by the way.”

“Well, I mean, I did change a _little_ ,” Scorpia says, gesturing at the engagement band around her wrist.

“You engaged, me married, Glimmer and Bow with a _baby_ —” Catra shakes her head. “Do you ever worry the last couple years can’t have been real? That one day we’ll wake up, and we’ll be back with the Horde, and nothing good will have happened to us?”

Scorpia sits with the question for a minute, her thoughtfulness written in how her brows furrow and mouth frowns. “I mean, I don’t think I do. The last four years—I mean, wow! What a life.” Scorpia touches the tip of her claw to Catra’s heart, the same spot she touched the night Catra asked Adora to spend the rest of their lives together. “I told you a long time ago you’ve always followed your heart, Wildcat. It led you through a lot of dark places, but it brought you here, too. To everyone who loves you, which, incidentally, includes me—”

Catra grins at the words. “We got pretty lucky, didn’t we?”

Scorpia grins back as Perfuma and Adora come to sit with them.

“Hey, Adora,” Catra says.

Adora makes a show of scooping Catra out of her chair, and Catra squeaks in surprise, but she’s always loved being in Adora’s arms, so she doesn’t protest too much. Catra’s still smiling when Adora kisses her.

“What was that for?” Catra asks against Adora’s mouth.

“Just because I love you,” Adora says. “I love being _here_ with you.”

Their friends whoop at the sight, teasing, poking fun. Catra’s face is warm and her heart is so full it hurts, but she doesn’t mind the pain. She loves everything about this moment, these people, and the places she’s been because all of them all led her here—to Adora, and their friends.

To a life she finally knows, after so long, she deserves.

***

Adora is afraid her heart is going to overflow.

After everyone wishes them a goodnight, Adora and Catra make their way back to the room that was Adora’s for so long. Glimmer told them she kept it ready for them all the time they were away, and the thought makes Adora’s heart spill over a little bit.

“Isn’t Melog coming with us?” Adora asks as they turn into the hallway outside the throne room.

“You’re not gonna believe this.” Catra laughs softly as she threads her fingers through Adora’s. “Apparently, Melog and Swift Wind live together now. How did Swift Wind put it? _We’re magical steeds, Catra. Of course we live together._ ”

“That… actually makes a lot of sense,” Adora says, chuckling.

Catra laughs again, but after that, they’re quiet until they reach their room. Everything is exactly how Adora remembers it. The bed that used to feel too big, the windows overlooking Bright Moon, the soft purple walls. Adora breathes in, smelling the night in the air so she can memorize it, because she wants tonight to live in her memories forever.

Adora leads them to one of the windows that overlooks the waterfalls behind the castle. Everything in Bright Moon is quiet now, and the first hints of dawn stain the sky, feathering yellow through deep blue. She’s grateful for the momentary peace, knowing it’s going to take her weeks to get used to all the noise of being home again.

Adora counts the lanterns spread over Bright Moon like glitter. She counts her own heartbeats. She tries to count the stars, but there’s too many, and when she tries to count how much love she felt tonight, she can’t do that, either.

She crossed so many miles, and gave so much magic, all so she could come back here—and knows every step she took was worth it.

Catra surprises her by moving in front of the view and putting her hands on Adora’s waist. “What are you thinking about? You look a million miles away.”

Adora’s smile is tired, but happy. “Just thinking about how we made it. We really made it back.”

“You promised me you’d bring me home a long time ago,” Catra says. “You kept your promise, Adora.”

“You still love me?” Adora asks. “After all this time?”

“You’re such an idiot.” A purr catches in Catra’s throat as she nuzzles the hand Adora rests against her cheek. “Of course I do.”

Adora looks at the stars blinking across the dawn-smeared sky, the stars they’ll go back to one day, the ones she’s given so much to already. Their light is soft, constant, their shapes familiar, while below them, Bright Moon is luminescent with lanterns and magic. But her eyes are drawn back to Catra, whose love is so easy to see Catra nearly glows with it.

Adora lets all that light in, and none of it is magic. It’s the feeling she couldn’t name for so long, the one that burns like a failsafe in her heart.

It’s the love she finally knows, after so long, she deserves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y’all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it! thanks so much for reading all the way through! <3


	8. arrive where we started (five years later)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic was supposed to be done, but I couldn’t resist writing this chapter after noelle’s livestream and we learned about finn!

Catra watches the stage’s curtains sweep closed like wings.

The theater is a recent addition to Bright Moon—its dark walls, cushioned maroon chairs, stone handrails that glow softly with magic so people don’t lose their way—it all shines with newness as the lights overhead come to life and bathe the theater and the people who fill it in soft golds.

There’s only been time for art since the war ended, and Etheria’s people are embracing it. Plays and murals and paintings and statues have appeared across the planet, everyone delighting in the color and spectacle of it all.

Everyone inside the theater breaks into a final round of applause. Catra sits forward in her chair, adjusting her hold around the chubby middle of Bow and Glimmer’s kid, Sparkle, who’s sitting in Catra’s lap. She’s thirteen months old now. Sparkle’s little hands clap together as she smiles, her hair shimmering the same way Glimmer’s does. Catra is babysitting for the afternoon while Bow, Glimmer, Swift Wind, and Adora take care of some diplomatic mission in Mermista’s territory that Catra wanted no part of.

The applause almost dies down, but then Double Trouble sweeps onto the stage. They’ve taken charge of Bright Moon’s theater, and put together all the performances they’ve had so far. Catra thinks Double Trouble likes the attention, being able to stand on the stage and be on the receiving end of so much adoration.

“Thank you!” Double Trouble yells to the clapping audience. “I do it for the culture, darlings!”

Catra huffs a laugh, and Melog makes an amused noise from where they’ve curled up on Catra’s feet for the duration of the performance.

“What’d you think, kid?” Catra asks. “Everything you dreamed of?”

Sparkles smacks the arms Catra has around her. “Want _more_. More!”

“Yeah, that’s been your favorite word lately, that’s for sure.” Catra stands, laughing at how Sparkle squirms in her arms, before placing her on Melog’s back.

Sparkle yells happily and grabs fistfuls of Melog’s mane. “ _More_!”

“Maybe next week. I’m sure your mom and dad will have another boring mission to go on.” Catra reaches down and tickles Sparkle’s side as they follow the streams of people toward the theater’s exit, grinning at the kid’s high-pitched squeal. “Then you’re all mine again!”

“Now!” Sparkle wails, but she’s giggling, and the sound makes Catra’s heart warm inside her chest. “MORE!”

“Talk to your parents, kid! I have _nothing_ to do the royal schedule.”

Sparkles says _more_ about a dozen more times before they make their way outside and into the bright, cloudless afternoon. Catra breathes in the city’s familiar smells—smoke, the ocean, warm stone—and the bit of tension in her shoulders unspools. Most people stream off in different directions, heading to the new markets and restaurants or music shows Bright Moon offers that are becoming famous all across the planet.

But there’s a commotion across the street, a group of people clearly… fawning over something. Or someone.

Catra laughs, amused. “Wanna see your favorite aunt, Sparkle?”

“A-DORA!” Sparkle screams at the top of her lungs from her perch on Melog.

“You yell almost as much as your mom, you know that?” Catra asks.

“More!” Sparkle yells in answer.

“If you say so.”

Catra pushes her way into the small crowd that’s grown around Adora. Melog keeps close to her side, with Sparkle riding safe on their back. Catra catches the flash of Adora’s hair, golden like fire in the sunlight. Adora is smiling, greeting people. Ever since Catra and Adora got back from space seven months ago, everyone wants to know what She-Ra did, what’s out there, the things they saw, what all that magic was like. The statues of Adora that’ve started popping up around the city haven’t helped, either—Glimmer insisted _”The people need to see their heroes, Catra”_ before she commissioned a statue of Catra to go right next to one of Adora’s. Even though Catra acted embarrassed when Glimmer announced the project, she was secretly delighted by the gesture.

Catra’s been content since they got back, settling into the house she and Adora share on the outskirts of Bright Moon, crafting a strategic role for herself with Glimmer’s permission inside Bright Moon’s government, helping Adora try to find a balance between what she _should_ do as She-Ra and what she _wants_ to do as Adora. It’s been seven months of relative peace and calm, of getting reacquainted with their friends and planet, of loving the kid perched on Melog’s back, the one who’s giggling like she doesn’t have a care in the world and won’t rule an entire queendom one day.

Catra loves the life she’s built with Adora, and all the people who fit into it. She loves how it’s made of so many different parts that, somehow, make a whole—that somehow make _her_ whole, too.

“You’re home early,” Catra says with a wink when she catches her wife’s eyes.

“Glimmer got annoyed about a bunch of stuff that Mermista hadn’t gotten done, so we left. And _Sparkle_!” Adora grins and swings her niece into her arms. Sparkle squeals when Adora tickles her stomach. “I’ve _missed_ you!”

Sparkle grabs Adora’s cheeks and smushes them, grinning. The sight of Sparkle in Adora’s strong arms makes Catra’s mouth go dry.

“You’re my favorite, too,” Adora assures her through smashed lips. “Sorry, Catra.”

Catra laughs despite her nervous pulse. “It’s fine. She’s mine, too.”

Adora’s eyes flicker back to the people around them. “Do you mind if I…”

Catra puts a hand on Melog’s head. “Take your time.”

Adora smiles, then turns back to the person talking her ear off about the stars and what’s up there in the sky, to finish their conversation.

Sparkle tolerates it for less than a minute before she starts chanting: “A-DORA! A-DORA! A- _DORA_!”

Every repetition of Adora’s name is punctuated with a smack on top of her head. So Adora apologizes, saying she needs to go, but everyone is laughing because the whole planet loves her. They already love Sparkle, too, who’ll be their own children’s queen.

Catra understands.

“Hi,” Adora says once they’re all free of the press of bodies, and leans down to give Catra a proper kiss hello.

Catra’s tail curls before Adora pulls away. “Hey, Adora.”

They leave the theater behind and wind deeper into Bright Moon. Some people look at them with interest, but seeing Sparkle hanging off Adora’s shoulders, how Catra and Adora talk quietly and fondly between them, and the way Melog paces alongside them, putting their body between everyone else and Catra, Adora, and Sparkle—they all keep their distance. A few wave, and almost everyone smiles. Sparkle is more than happy to return each gesture with three times the enthusiasm of the person giving it.

When a particularly brave person comes over and interrupts them, Catra and Sparkle make silly faces at Adora while she talks. Catra sticks out her tongue, and is delighted when Sparkle bursts into giggles when Catra crosses her eyes and tickles the kid’s nose with her tail. But it’s only when Sparkle is sitting on Catra’s shoulders, cheeks puffed up with air and nose wrinkled, tugging so hard on Catra’s ears she nearly falls over, that Adora starts laughing.

Even after a lifetime of listening to the sound, Catra will never be tired of it.

Adora apologizes to who she’s talking to, still laughing, before rejoining Catra and Sparkle a few feet away. “You’re really good at this.”

“At what?” Catra winces when Sparkle pulls her ears again, then lifts the kid off her shoulders and resettles her on Melog’s back.

Adora boops Sparkle’s nose, and Sparkle tries to bite her finger. Catra tickles Sparkle’s ear with her tail, distracting her.

“Being with her. Taking care of her.” Adora takes Catra’s hand in hers and winds their fingers together as Sparkle smacks her hands against Melog’s shoulders. “I wonder what it’d be like if we had our own.”

Catra blinks against how casually Adora says it, at how rapid her heartbeat becomes.

“Now come on.” Adora tugs on Catra’s arm. “I promised Glimmer and Bow we’d have Sparkle back for dinner.”

But Adora’s comment… it makes Catra think.

It makes Catra think about the future, and what she wants from it.

***

Adora leans away from the map she’s working on.

Ever since she and Catra returned from space, Adora has been working with Bow’s dads to help map the stars and their movements across the sky. Something about maps themselves, the way they make sense, such enormous distances folded down into a scale that fits across her palms—Adora loves them.

But it’s late, and her eyes are tired. She has the house to herself tonight, since Catra left yesterday night to visit Scorpia in what used to be the Fright Zone. Now, though, it’s Scorpia’s queendom. Catra said she had to help Scorpia babysit Rose, Scorpia and Perfuma’s first daughter, who was born only two months ago. Perfuma was going back to her own territory for a few days to take care of a problem with the plants behaving strangely.

Adora pushes herself away from the table full of maps, then stands and stretches. Catra made food that would last the length of her trip. Adora smiles, remembering the two of them learning how to cook together. Or, well, _Catra_ learned. Adora somehow burns everything she touches, or puts way too much salt on it.

Smiling to herself, Adora walks through the house they’ve made their own in the seven months they’ve been back on Etheria. It’s on the outskirts of Bright Moon, away from the bustle of the castle and the noise of the main streets. Adora misses the peace of space, sometimes, where all she had to do was exist and wait to arrive at the place that needed her, but she loves their house. It’s filled with pieces of her and Catra. Adora’s maps are on the wall, along with an ancient She-Ra banner that was a wedding present from Bow’s dads. Catra’s clothes are scattered across their bedroom floor—something about being away from the Horde, where order was demanded of them, makes Catra messy, but Adora has never minded. The old jacket Adora while in the Rebellion is tattered, its red cloth faded with time and sun, but it still hangs on a peg near the front door.

The house feels empty without Catra to share it with, though. Adora tries to squash the loneliness that flickers in her chest, but can’t. She walks to a window that overlooks the garden Perfuma grew for her and Catra as a housewarming present. The flowers they chose bloom at night, and glow like pearls. Beyond their garden, a path leads back to Bright Moon. She can see Glimmer’s castle towering above it all, the whole city surrounded and hugged by cliffs. Overhead, the runestone lends a soft radiance to everything below.

Adora might live here for the rest of her life, and the thought brings her comfort. The years stretch ahead of her, and she can fill them however she wants to.

But Adora already knows what she wants next, even though it’s not something she ever knew she wanted, or expected to want. It’s not something she ever thought she could have.

She lets herself imagine it, then: Tiny footsteps making a home beside hers and Catra’s, a new, sweet laughter that exists because she made it so, a love more expansive than anything she’s ever known.

Adora is afraid, though. Because her own childhood was so lacking, a place where the only love she knew was Catra’s, and she didn’t have a word to give a name to her feelings. Because even after so many years, she can’t get rid of the memories of how Shadow Weaver manipulated her and made her, for so long, believe it was love.

Adora doesn’t want to be afraid she could ever ruin someone the way Shadow Weaver tried to ruin her and Catra.

But she is.

***

Catra does her best not to get stung by the stinger on the end of Rose’s tail.

“Scorpia! She’s freaking out!” Catra tries to properly support Rose’s head while also _not_ get stabbed. “ _I’m_ freaking out!”

“Just rock her, wildcat!” Scorpia calls from the next room. “She _loves_ being rocked! Calms her right down!”

Catra sucks in a breath as she tucks the baby close to her chest, trapping Rose’s tail between Catra’s ribs and Rose’s own body. Rose’s dark brown eyes glare up at her, seeming resentful at not being allowed to stab Catra in the face, and the little tuft of white hair atop her head, is, frankly, ridiculous.

Catra can’t help her laugh as she starts to rock Rose in her arms. “Come on. I’m not so bad.”

“She really isn’t, Rose! Your aunt Catra loves you!” Scorpia comes back into the room. “I promise, if you just give her a chance, you’ll really like her, Rose.”

“Bargaining with a baby?” Catra snorts. “How’s that working out for you?”

Scorpia smiles, gesturing for Catra to follow her out onto the balcony. Catra does, careful not to let Rose’s tail escape from where it’s gently pinned between their bodies.

“She really wants to stab me, Scorpia.”

Scorpia laughs. “Who on Etheria _hasn’t_ wanted to stab you at some point? The kid is wise beyond her years, that’s all!”

Catra can only shake her head, letting out a purr of a laugh. She never thought she would get to a place in her life where joking about how difficult her past is wouldn’t hurt. But it’s been so long since she found the path she’s supposed to be on, the one she wants to know where it ends, and all the ground she has to cover before she gets there.

“Thanks for helping me while Perfuma goes home for a couple days, Catra.”

Catra inclines her head, leaning a hip against the balcony railing. Beyond it is what used to be the Fright Zone. Now, though, Catra can only find the scars the Horde left behind because she knows exactly where to look. She traces each familiar place with her gaze—the forge she and Adora used to race to, the barracks where she and Adora spent so many nights whispering about the world, the old runestone chamber where Shadow Weaver did so many awful things to her. But if she hadn’t spent so long here, all she’d be able to see are the flowers and trees Perfuma spent months growing, the valleys filled with villages, and the deep pink glow of Scorpia’s runestone, now left open to the sky and nestled in the center of the city where Scorpia, Perfuma, and Rose live.

“Can’t believe how different this place is.” Catra gestures with her chin toward it all. “I gotta admit, I like it better this way.”

“Oh, me too! Perfuma has been talking about all these new flowers she wants to try and grow when she gets back, she’s been experimenting with her magic and she thinks she can—”

Catra tunes Scorpia out as she rambles about seasonal varieties and how they interact with Perfuma’s magic. Catra looks down at Rose, who seems to have settled down since they came outside and Catra started rocking her. Huge, dark eyes stare up at Catra, who smiles in response.

“She’s really cute, Scorpia,” Catra says, interrupting whatever her friend was saying. “You and Perfuma should be proud.”

“We already are, of course!” Scorpia smiles at Rose. “Aren’t we, Rose? Don’t we tell you all the time how proud we are of you, growing so _strong_ already!”

Catra laughs, her tail curling upwards to tickle Rose’s cheek. But it surprises the baby instead of making her excited like Catra wants—but then, there’s a shimmer of light near Rose’s chubby fists, and a single, pink flower appears on top of them.

“Did you—did you just use magic?” Catra asks, stunned. “Scorpia! She knows magic! Did you know she knows magic!”

“Oh!” Scorpia shouts, rushing over and pointing at the flower Rose made. “You see that, wildcat? _Plant_ magic, just like Perfuma’s! Oh, I can’t wait to tell Perfuma what happened when she gets back—or do you think it’s better if I don’t? I don’t want her to feel excluded, that would just be the worst.”

Rose picks up the flower she made in her tiny hands, and pokes Catra in the chest with it. She babbles a happy, baby laugh as Catra takes the flower and holds it delicately in her claws. There’s a warmth in her chest, and the smell of magic in her nose, as Scorpia catches the way Catra’s looking at the baby.

“You’re sweet with her, you know. I like the way you two are together. My best friend and my _baby_. Wow. What a group we make.”

Catra wonders what their group would be like if they added another person to it. She wonders what it would feel like to have something that’s part of herself in her arms.

Catra thinks maybe, she wants to find out.

***

Adora watches the stars that have a home in her heart.

They hang in a moons-bright sky, suspended between luminescent crescents and wholes, winking, teasing her with the memories they bring. She’s been away from them for months, but she still feels the love in their light every single night.

She loves them, too.

She’s sitting on the roof of her and Catra’s house so she can be a little closer to them than she is on the ground. Flowers in the garden below fill the air with a soft, silver radiance, and the magic she gave back to the universe tugs at her heart, trying to guide her back to the stars, telling her they want her to come back to them again.

_One day_ , Adora knows. _But not yet._

“Adora?” Catra calls.

Adora tears her eyes away from the stars. “Up here!”

Catra scales their house with ease, still dressed in her traveling clothes she wore to travel to and from Scorpia’s territory, seeming unsurprised to find Adora on the roof. The wing buckle Adora gave Catra the day of their wedding has been turned into a pin that Catra wears on her cloak. She makes her way over and sits, then kisses Adora soundly.

“I missed you,” Catra says when she pulls back.

“You’re home now,” Adora says. “How was your trip? How’s Scorpia? And Rose?”

“The trip was fine.” Catra ticks off each item on a clawed fingertip. “Scorpia is herself. And Rose is great. Used plant magic for the first time while I was there.”

“Really?”

Catra reaches into her cloak and pulls out a creased, pink flower, slightly wilted. “It looked better before, but yeah. See?”

Adora takes it, playing with the soft petals between her fingers.

“It was… really special. Being there when it happened. Made me think.” Catra runs a hand through her hair, which hangs below her shoulders now. “I haven’t stopped thinking the whole way home, to be honest.”

Adora’s pulse quickens at the seriousness in Catra’s voice. “Thinking about anything in particular?”

“Just about Sparkle and Rose. How happy Glimmer and Bow and Scorpia and Perfuma are. About how happy I am to spend time with Sparkle and Rose.” Catra shrugs, seeming a little unsure, a little self conscious. “We’ve all changed so much, and so much has happened to us, Adora. Everyone will remember us now, no thanks to those ridiculous statues Glimmer has everywhere. But I’ve been thinking, maybe… maybe I want something more than the things I’ve done to be the only thing I leave behind.”

“Catra—what are you saying?” But Adora thinks she knows already, and she’s terrified and happy all at once.

“I think I want to have a baby. With you,” Catra clarifies, like there could be anyone else. She glances at Adora for a moment, then away again, like she’s afraid of her reaction. “I mean, you think I’m good with Sparkle, right?”

“You’re _great_ with her. She adores you, Catra.”

“Yeah.” Catra laughs quietly. “I adore her, too.”

Adora still doesn’t answer Catra’s question, though. Her hands are shaking where she’s folded them in her lap, and her chest is tight. It doesn’t take Catra long to notice her lack of an answer.

“Do you not want that?” Catra’s voice is careful, controlled. “You can tell me.”

“I…” It all wells up inside Adora. All the nights in the Horde, Shadow Weaver’s manipulations, never knowing her own parents, the way she didn’t know how to love people properly for so long.

“You’re what?” Catra prompts softly, reaching over to take Adora’s hand in hers.

“Afraid,” Adora says. “I’m afraid. What if we—what if we mess it up? Mess our _kid_ up? We didn’t exactly have the best childhoods.”

Catra squeezes Adora’s hand, and Adora watches Catra as she thinks. Catra’s ears tilt backwards, brow furrows. She’s quiet a long time, so long Adora starts to be afraid she’ll never get an answer.

“I don’t know if we’ll mess it up, Adora,” Catra admits. “I don’t know if anyone can ever know something like that before they actually do it. But I know you love me, and I love you. And I know I want to try, because we’ve learned together so much the last few years. If we’re bad at it—which I don’t think we will be—well. Then we can learn how to be better. Our friends will help us.”

Adora gives her fear to the night, and trusts Catra will keep it safe. “You—you don’t think it’d be anything like when we grew up, do you?”

Catra scoots around so she’s facing Adora and takes a deep breath. She unlaces their hands and instead takes Adora’s face between her palms. “We’re—Adora, we’re so far beyond the Fright Zone, and the Horde, and Shadow Weaver and what she did to us. If we were the people she’d tried to make us into? Then yes, I would be afraid. But we’re _not_ those people. We’re so much more than she ever thought we could be—we’re more than _we_ thought we could be, too.”

Adora swallows against the knot in her throat, eyes burning, and leans into Catra’s touch. “You really think so?”

“I really do.” Catra smiles, leaning forward so their foreheads touch. “So… what do you think?”

Adora looks at Catra, and knows then what she should have all along—they’ve spent so long learning how to love each other the way they should. How to earn it, and accept it, and keep it. How to trust it belongs to them.

They can teach their child what it took them far too long to understand, and give them everything they never had when they were young.

“What do _you_ want, Adora?” Catra whispers.

“I think I want a family.” Adora is crying now, but it’s only because of how happy she is, how impossible this moment would have seemed to her five years ago, before she understood she was allowed to want things for herself, and have them, too. “I want a family with you.”

Adora looks at Catra, and knows they’ll love them exactly the way they deserve.


End file.
